


Night Talks

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Autistic Character, Bad Puns, Delusions, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomnia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Psychosis, Suicide Attempt, Telepathic Bond, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Through their shared insomnia, Evan and Connor find they can hear each other's thoughts late at night. What starts out as seemingly hallucinations ends up being the start of a bizarre connection the two of them share.This was a small and lonely fear, one that cried on the darkest of nights. It reminded him of watching shooting stars several miles from any city, and all at once being overwhelmed by how small he was and how little he mattered, so far away from the rest of the world. He laid back down in bed, turned off the light, and thought, “It’s okay... you’re not alone.”content warnings: suicide attempt, panic attacks, delusional thinking, general mental illness stuff. also read the tags.





	1. Empty Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> waddup this fic was brought to you by my own insomnia and mental health problems yaaayy
> 
> besides evan canonically having social anxiety and connor having anger issues, i headcanon connor as having psychosis and paranoia, and evan as autistic. most of it had been written based on my own experiences or research, but obviously there are a lot of ways to experience these.

The night wrapped around Evan’s skin, clogging up his lungs and dragging against his skull as a headache slowly began to set in. He hated the early hours. Midnight had passed like a last glimpse of land, before his lonely mind floated off into a sea of darkness and away from any hope of sleep. Here, marooned in his small twin size bed, clutching the sheets, he felt condemned to lay in paralyzed silence.

He twisted around in his blankets, staring up at the ceiling. It was still technically summer and the heat of late August clung to him, sweat sliding down the back of his legs and thighs. He should’ve ditched the blankets a long time ago, but he liked the subtle weight of them, as if they could hold his thoughts down from bouncing around his room. During the early hours, his brain took a feverish turn, eyes and ears prying every shadow for monsters everyone else had left back in childhood. During the early hours, he could almost forget he was human.

Restless, he rolled over onto his side and stuck a pillow under his left arm. His cast weighed down like a brick, and it was just clunky enough to exist as a taunting reminder. Evan squeezed his eyes shut, tensing up as he tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

_“Stop gritting your teeth, you’ll hurt your jaw.”_

Evan's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright in bed, wildly glaring at the emptiness of his room. He could've sworn a voice had spoken to him just seconds ago. He sat frozen for several minutes, adrenaline pumping any tiredness from his mind as he tried to pull himself down from an impending panic attack.

There was nothing in the room. Evan held his breath. Nothing spoke in the silence. Evan released a sigh. But he didn’t move, considering all the horror movies he’d seen where a character let their guard down, only to be brutally murdered moments after. He pulled his legs away from the edge of the bed and contemplated turning on his bedside lamp, but as the minutes ticked by he realised he was truly alone.

Sometimes, when he was on the verge of sleep, he would hear little blips of voices, usually random nonsense that cut in and out as his conscious brain shut down for the night. Dr. Sherman had called them “hypnagogic hallucinations”, as if that meant anything to Evan. What he did understand was that they weren’t real, and they were perfectly normal, and he had nothing to worry about.

Evan lay back down in bed and pretended not to worry.

His thoughts began to drift again, and this time he actually noticed when he began to grit his teeth. Attempting to relax, his eyelids fluttered and his body groaned with the need for rest, even as his mind still stumbled from one anxious thought to the next. The cast on his arm weighed heavier. And when he closed his eyes, he could see way, way down towards the forest floor. He was up so high. So very high. If he just leaned forward. If he just fell...

_“Did you fall, or did you let go?”_

This time the voice sounded as if it were right next to him, mumbling in his ear. He let out a yelp, scrambling backwards against the headboard as he fumbled for the lamp switch. But turning on the light revealed nothing. The emptiness of his bedroom mocked him as he reeled.

What was going on? Was he hallucinating? Was he being haunted?

Then he felt a stab of regret clutch his heart, sadness weighing heavy on his shoulders. He felt fear, but somehow not his own fear, not the usual anxiety that choked him up before he could even speak to anyone. This was a small and lonely fear, one that cried on the darkest of nights. It reminded him of watching shooting stars several miles from any city, and all at once being overwhelmed by how small he was and how little he mattered, so far away from the rest of the world.

He laid back down in bed, turned off the light, and thought, _“It’s okay... you’re not alone.”_

And then, somewhere, lost in the vastness of night, the voice thanked him. Together, they slowly wandered into restless sleep.

\---------------------------------

 

“Evan? Evan! First day of school, don’t wanna be late!” his mom’s voice jarred him awake, from the other side of his bedroom door. She knocked several times until he moaned an acknowledgment, and then her footsteps rushed back down to the kitchen.

Evan rolled onto his back and blinked up at the ceiling. It was still fairly dark, the sun not quite over the horizon, but if he didn’t get up soon he would have to take the bus instead of ride with his mom.

Which was… which was not worth an extra few minutes of sleep.

He pushed himself up, wincing as his head throbbed from a headache already threatening to ruin his day. The first day of school was always a miserable test of endurance. Any sudden change to his daily routine was enough to jitter his nerves, but his senior year in particular carried a sense of impending finality.

It was only after he’d put his clothes on and was walking down the stairs that it occurred to him he’d actually gotten some sleep. Real sleep. Not the peaceful kind in mattress advertisements where a model smiled as they cuddled a pillow. But it was more than he’d had in a long while, especially since he’d broken his arm.

There was something else too, something he couldn't quite remember, like he’d missed an important detail. But between scooping up breakfast and rushing to school, the memories of the past night faded away.

That was… until he got shoved to the ground.

“Did you find that funny too, freak?” the school stoner, Connor, loomed over him, eyes darting between Evan and the other students in the hallway. Jared Kleinman stood a few feet away, mouth sealed shut even though just moments before _he_ had been the one making cruel jokes.

Evan couldn’t think properly, fumbling for words, even as his thoughts jumped from worrying that he’d re-injured his arm to receiving a pummeling from this kid to wanting to shout “I wasn’t laughing, I promise, I didn’t mean it!”

None of those things happened. Instead, Connor tilted his head to the side, his gaze lingering on Evan’s embarrassingly blank cast. He blinked, as if woken from a trance, and snatched up his backpack before charging down the hall, avoiding the prying eyes of their fellow classmates.

Jared kneeled down and offered a hand to Evan, which Evan did not take as he wiped his sweaty palms onto his jeans and stumbled against a nearby locker to push himself back up. By now most of the students had wandered into their next class. If he and Jared were lucky, they would be able to make it before the tardy bell rang.

“Did you see that look he gave you?” Jared shuddered, “Glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of that!”

“Yeah.” Evan mumbled, starting to walk off, “Sure.”

What he didn’t tell Jared, what he couldn’t say to anyone else because it would sound insane, was that he thought he’d heard that voice before. Somewhere. Last night?

He shook his head, and winced as his headache came back in full force. He hadn’t even gotten to first period and already the day was terrible.

\---------------------------------

 

The letter was, frankly, pathetic. It read like a page out of an emo middle schooler’s diary. The kind that would be wedged in-between a collage of Linkin Park and a note about his lovesick crush over a girl far outside his league. Except this letter sat on a dull, white screen with a blinking cursor staring back at him.

Before he could second-guess himself, he hit the “print” button and released a shaky sigh. His jaw clenched as he quickly read over the letter on the computer again, body tense from a long first day.

“Stop gritting your teeth.” somebody remarked absently from behind.

Evan gasped. It was the voice! It was the same voice he’d heard whispering to him last night, now standing on the other side of the room. He swiveled around to see Connor standing by the printer. Reading his letter. That he’d written to himself. About…

He leapt up. “Wait! Hold on, I can--!”

Connor squinted at the paper, “Who wrote this?”

“Huh?”

“It’s addressed to you. Who… who wrote this letter? Did you write this to yourself?”

Evan could tell a lie. It was feasibly possible that he could simply tell Connor it was from a friend... No. No that wouldn’t be believable, would it? Could he blame it on Jared? Connor would definitely believe Jared was capable of writing letters about his sister. But then he’d probably just beat up Jared.

 _Or he could beat you up,_  a guilty part of him thought.

He ducked his head, “I- yeah… yeah I wrote… I wrote that to myself. But it’s not what you think, I’m not... Well. I’m not...” his voice trailed off.

Connor squinted at him, “Do I know you from somewhere? You sound familiar?”

Ah, maybe he hadn’t read the part about Zoe.

“Also why the fuck are you writing about my sister?”

Annnd there it was.

Evan fidgeted with the rim of his polo shirt, finger looping around a loose string. “I-I didn’t mean anything by that, I j-just uh it’s just a stupid -- a stupid crush I, I c-can’t even talk to, uh, can’t talk to her, I um… it’s doesn’t -- it doesn’t mat--”

“Yeah I heard you the first time, creep.” Connor growled, eyes darkening. “Is this some kind of joke? I bet that punk from this morning is hanging around here too, huh? Do you laugh about me behind my back, huh? Once you’ve have some fun?”

“Noooo no no no, that’s not, I would n-never!” Evan tripped, falling back into a chair. Dammit, why couldn’t he just get the words out, just clear this whole mess up? Why did he always have to ruin everything? He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for a fist to come slamming down on his face. When nothing happened, he finally peeked, stunned to find Connor on his knees in front of him, hair hiding his face. He seemed to be curling into himself, body trembling.

And finally Evan saw it, or rather he felt it. Connor had reached out a hand to grab Evan’s shoulder, and slowly it had slipped down to rest on his knee. There, at that small bit of touch, a familiar feeling of lonely sadness coursed through his body. With it, memories flooded back from the night before. Lying afraid in bed. Staring into the darkness, when the only thing that kept him tethered down was the comforting voice inside his head.

“It can’t be… it doesn’t make sense.” Connor whispered.

Tentatively, Evan leaned down till he was near Connor’s level. He let out a shaky breath, “It’s okay. You’re not alone.”

They did not move for a long moment. Then, Connor suddenly stood up, face still hidden by his long hair. He whirled around and rushed out of the computer lab, and with him left any sense of hope or warmth.

The wheels on Evan’s chair squeaked. The tile beneath him was pale and cold. Above him, fluorescent lights buzzed an incessant drone, prickling his skin. He rubbed his arm, before standing up and reaching for his backpack. Only then did he notice Connor had ran off with his letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, comment, and subscribe for more angst and questionable telepathy ~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. i'm not shy. hmu or just hang around to enjoy my weird sense of humour and obsession with musicals!


	2. Immortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers: delusional thoughts, panic attack, suffocation, and attempted suicide. the last ones occur near the end of the chapter and you should be able to tell when it starts. tread carefully dears. <3

Connor had dealt with delusions before. 

Not the kind in psycho-horror movies that drove the protagonist crazy, nor the beliefs of a wandering man in a desert who claimed to be the reincarnation of a prophet. The delusions weren’t poetic, and for awhile they hadn’t been scary. Just him, his thoughts, and a wobbly line between what was real or imaginary. Most of the time they were just little thoughts that slipped him up, beliefs that seemed obviously stupid in hindsight. 

For instance: he was not immortal. Another instance: his thirteen-year-old self hadn’t been able to influence events with his thoughts. And yet another: a voice hadn’t been speaking to him late last night.

It seemed obvious, once he’d woken up and splashed quite a lot of cold water onto his face, that he’d simply been experiencing an auditory hallucination. He had dealt with those before too. They didn’t mean anything, they weren’t real, and he had nothing to worry about.

He hadn’t even wanted to go to school, citing being high as a reason to skip, but something deep inside him had tugged. Tugged him all the way to school, and into the hallways, and right past a snotty little kid who’d decided he had nothing better to do with his time than taunt Connor. 

Really, the breaking point was the boy with the arm cast. 

Before he could realize what he was doing, Connor had shoved him onto the ground, because this kid was  _ laughing _ at him. They were all laughing at him, and their voices rang in his ears and he just wanted it to stop,  _ just stop dammit _ .

His eyes lingered on the cast, empty of names and vaguely familiar in a way Connor couldn’t explain, as if he’d heard someone mention it before. Another delusion. Just another delusion. It had to be that. 

And he kept telling himself this for the rest of the day.

He should have simply gone into the computer lab, printed out his assignment, and left. So when he commented offhand that the other boy in the lab stop gritting his teeth, he almost kicked himself. Why had he said that? Why did that phrase sound so familiar? 

When he looked up from the letter addressed to “Evan Hansen”, he was able to place the name to a face. A very frightened, pale face. Evan was shaking, arm reaching out for his paper. Connor should’ve handed it back without question, went home, and never thought about Evan Hansen again.

But there was “ _ Zoe” _ , and then there was  _ “would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?” _ and how could he leave that alone? 

Part of him was sad for Evan, because god if that last part of the letter didn’t sound exactly like something he would think. But wasn’t that exactly the point? It sounded like the version of him he’d buried deep inside, away from anyone else, and certainly far away from the prying eyes of his family. How could somebody know what he was thinking? Could Evan read his thoughts? Were… were those two perverts using his sister to make him angry, to rile him up? Was that little punk from this morning videotaping the whole thing? So he could put in online and show the whole world how crazy Connor Murphy was?! 

His eyes wildly scanned the room, nostrils flaring and legs stalking over to Evan. He reached out to grab Evan by the shoulder, to shake the truth out of him. 

It was the worst mistake of his life. 

All it took was a small touch, a brief pause. Then suddenly everything was different, everything was changing, the lights were too bright and his palms were sweaty and his chest was tight and god he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe and it was  _ him _ , it was the voice from last night the one who’d finally given him a moment of sleep and yet it was Evan. The loser, the nobody, the quiet kid who probably hadn’t managed a full sentence in a decade. 

Evan leaned down, trembling hands gently encircling Connor’s wrists, and his voice was everything warm and gentle that Connor had given up on.  _ It’s okay. You’re not alone. _

It was too much.

He didn’t even look back as he whirled around and rushed out of the lab, and he didn’t stop running until he tripped and rammed into the side of his car. The pain was enough to jar him into reality again, the world screeching to a stop. He almost doubled over, hand cupping his mouth as he pleaded for his stomach to hold what little food he’d eaten down. 

He eventually crawled into the driver’s seat and let his forehead rest on the steering wheel, tears sliding down his cheeks as he curled into a tight little ball. 

The nature of delusions was that they always seemed inexplicably real until it was too late to notice they weren’t. He hoped, he begged the universe to let this be one of them. He would come back tomorrow and Evan Hansen would continue to exist outside of his peripheral, confined to the shadows, and Connor would still be the scary loner no one wanted to mess with. Right?

He sat back in his car, staring up through the sunroof at the afternoon sky.

_ Right? _

\---------------------------------

 

Evan felt sick to his stomach the entire evening. Something was wrong, very definitely wrong, and he couldn’t explain how. His insides twisted and the plate in front of him seemed to morph before his eyes from mildly appetizing to a lumpy mush.

“So, how was the first day of senior year?” his mom asked, tapping on her plate with a spoon. 

Evan looked up, blinking in surprise. Heidi sat across from him at the table, hair pulled up into a messy bun. She still wore her nurse scrubs, pale purple with little flowers down the front, and she probably wouldn’t change out of them until after dinner. Still, it was a rare gift to be able to eat with his mom, and Evan felt guilty for ignoring her when they barely saw each other at all.

“I-I’m sorry, mom. I’m just… not feeling well.” he picked at his peas and mashed potatoes.

Heidi frowned, leaning forward and tilting her head, “First-day-of-school-not-well or I’ve-got-a-stomach-bug-not-well?”

“Uh b-both.” he ducked his head down. He couldn’t look at her; if he did he’d see her gentle, caring eyes, and he’d cry and then she would cry and then they’d have a long talk on the couch where he would inevitably spill out all of the strange, frightening things that’d happened that day. 

Heidi scooted her chair closer.

“I know it’s hard for you, sweetie. First weeks are always tough. Just hang in there and things will get better.” she said, and he could just barely hear her wincing at the sappiness of her own words.  _ ‘It gets better’ _ was something they’d both believed at one point, and yet it never really did. In fact, their lives had mostly turned for the worse.

Still, she was trying. Evan managed to look back up and give her a weak smile, “O-okay.”

He managed to shove down a few more bites of food before his head started to hurt, so with a mumbled apology he slunk back up to his room, sitting on his bed and not moving as he stared at the wall.

Evan glanced at the clock and did a double-take. He knew they’d eaten dinner later than usual (if they ate dinner at all), but it was already 10 PM. His stomach whined, now not just from nausea but also from the small meal. Of course he ended up making an existing problem even worse. And with nightfall had come more pain and apprehension in his gut. 

Downstairs, Heidi was on the phone with someone. Outside, cicadas chirped and the neighbors laughed and chatted on their front porch. He looked back up at the clock. 10:32. 

Releasing a deep sigh, Evan reached over and turned on his lamp, scooting back onto the bed and flipping open his laptop. He’d been holding off on social media for as long as he could, but according to multiple sources (his mom, his therapist, Alana Beck), being involved even a little bit would be useful down the road, when colleges and future employers wanted to confirm that he was a model citizen. 

Mostly he just used it to give Jared copies of his class notes.

A message was waiting for him, in all-caps:  **DUDE WHAT HAPPENED I HEARD YOU GOT MURDERED BY CONNOR MURPHY???**

He sighed, trying to type around the clunkiness of his cast:  **No, I’m fine. He jusst bumped into me in the computre lab.**

Without waiting for a reply, he quickly switched over to a blank document to start on homework. His mom would have chided him for starting so late, but it wasn’t as if he was going to be getting sleep anyway. 

He was halfway through a chemistry assignment when the spasms began. At first he merely felt uncomfortable, rolling his shoulder and stretching his back, but the aches persisted. Then it traveled up to his chest and seized his throat, and he realized that for once the anxiety that paralyzed him wasn’t his own. 

That didn’t mean his body could tell the difference.

A spasm ripped through Evan and he cried out, collapsing back onto the bed. Another one shot through his chest and his arms went numb, and he started to panic, terrified as his body seemed to lose all control of itself. Invisible fingers tugged at his neck and his lungs begged for air, and he could no longer remember how to breath. He was literally suffocating and he had no idea why!

The bedroom door burst opened and Heidi appeared, rushing over and rolling Evan onto his back. Her lips moved but Evan could hear nothing above the buzzing whine in his ears. The whine became louder and his body heavier. A ticklish numb spread through his brain as his vision faded to black. 

Distantly, he could sense someone’s terrified sobs.

_ Just! A little longer just!… dammit I can’t keep doing this I can’t do this! _

He couldn't see the person the voice belonged to, but he knew who it was anyway. Connor’s voice, once soothing, now sounded angry and frightened. Evan held back his own cries of pain and pressed forward.

_ Connor! Connor, what are you doing? Stop it, you’re killing us both! … Connor! _

The pressure on his chest immediately lifted and he gasped for air, feeling surging back into his arms and legs. But he kept his eyes closed, clinging on to the voice that still wept in the darkness.

_ You… you could feel that? _ Connor’s voice was hoarse and worried, and very quiet. But alive. Still alive.

Evan breathed a sigh of relief.  _ Where are you? What just happened? _

There was a long pause, then a weak gasp,  _ I don’t know. My head’s fuzzy and I’m… not at home? I’m… in... a place with trees?... A park? Oh god where the fuck am I? _

“Evan! Evan, can you hear me?” Heidi asked, her voice seeping into his subconscious. He opened his eyes and winced at the bright ceiling light in his room. Heidi hovered over him, biting her lip as she shook his arms gently.

Too weak to reply, he instead nodded his head. When he tried to sit up his chest throbbed, and he let his mom carefully lower him back down.

“What happened, sweetie? Are you okay?” she combed her fingers through his hair.

“P-p-panic attack.” he managed. 

She frowned but nodded, silently handing him a Xanax pill before running to the bathroom for a cup of water. The room felt too big with her gone, and somewhere out there Connor was even more lonely. Evan had to find him!

Slowly, he sat up in bed, accepting the cup of water from his mom and swallowing the pill, before standing up to put on his shoes. Heidi stared at him in shock.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I need to find a friend, they might be in trouble.” he said, turning too quickly and nearly falling onto his mom. She held out her hands to steady him, glancing up at him with worried eyes.

“At least let me drive you then! I don’t want you wandering around outside right after you had a massive panic attack.”

Evan’s chest tightened at the memory of what had just happened, but he pushed away those thoughts, stumbling down the stairs. Finding Connor was the priority now. Connor might not have succeeded in his attempt, but that didn’t mean he could find his way home or survive a night out in the wilderness.

The nearest wooded park was a small, abandoned place that Evan hadn’t visited in years, but it seemed the likeliest spot. As they neared the entrance, Evan found himself clinging to the car door handle. Heidi barely had time to stop the car before he was running down the path, eyes scanning every bench and shadowed nook. It was almost impossible to see anything in the darkness. Why hadn’t he thought to bring a flashlight?

Then it hit him: the lake. 

There was a lake at this park.

His legs screamed in protest as he forced himself to run faster, almost tripping over his own feet as he rounded a corner. There, lying at the shore of the lake, was a thin black silhouette of a body.

Evan skidded to a stop next to Connor and knelt down, ignoring the pain in his knees as he rolled Connor onto his side. The boy sputtered out water and gasped for air, limbs trembling as his eyes squinted up at Evan. His skin was so cold and pale, and Evan thought he could feel scars around Connor’s wrists.

“Hi.” Evan said, and it sounded just as pitiful and awkward as he expected it to be. 

A lopsided grin split across Connor’s face, and he started to giggle. “Shit, I wish I was.”

And maybe Evan was sitting in a dark forest with skinned knees and a delirious boy lying in his lap, but he’d had enough sorrows that day to last a lifetime. So Evan laughed too, and together their laughs echoed across the lake and got lost in the night sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, comment, and subscribe for more gay activities like cradling a boy's head in one's lap ~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. i'm not shy. hmu or just hang around to enjoy my weird sense of humour and obsession with musicals!


	3. Buzzing Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm love everyone who comments on this fic! y'all keep me excited to write this so uhh here have another chapter since i managed to get a lot of writing done today asfjsahfjhgkjajl 
> 
> possible triggers: references to connor's attempted suicide (kinda necessary... they got a lot of talking to do)

Only when they got home did Evan realize both he and Connor were wet and chilled to the bone. His clothes were damp from helping Connor back to the car, and Connor was completely soaked, strands of hair still clinging to his forehead. Heidi ushered them into the living room and had them sit on the couch, before scurrying upstairs. When she came back down, she held two body-sized towels and changes of clothes, which she plopped down on the coffee table. With Evan’s help, they wrapped one of the towels around Connor, who sat numbly staring at the floor.

“Evan, I’ve got a change of pajamas for you. And your, uh, friend can wear some of your old clothes.” she patted on the pile of clothing and then walk back to the kitchen. Evan knew she probably had a hundred or more questions the nervous mother inside her wanted to ask, but for his sake she was keeping her distance. At least for now.

“Here, try these on.” Evan held out a pair of baggy pajama pants and an old shirt he now only used for yard work. 

Connor slowly reached out and accepted them, holding them carefully away from his damp body. He stood up and looked around, as if he’d just noticed he was in the Hansen house. 

“Bathroom’s up the stairs.” Evan pointed.

Connor nodded once and then took the stairs by two, in a surprising burst of energy. The door clicked shut. Evan pretended not to hear small, shaky sobs coming from inside.

Heidi entered the living room again, this time caring three mugs, “Hope your friend likes coffee, it’s the only warm drinks we have right now.”

Evan had no idea if Connor liked coffee. He didn’t know anything about this boy, except that he was kinda scary, probably did some kind of drugs, was apparently suicidal, and… could somehow communicate with him telepathically.

Besides that, Connor was a total stranger. Who was currently using his bathroom and putting on his clothes.

Heidi leaned in closer, “So, um… what’s your friend’s name? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.”

Evan shook his head, “No, no, you haven’t. H-he’s uh. A new friend? A new friend. His name’s Connor.”

“Ah.” Heidi sat back and sipped on her coffee. She pulled out her phone, “It’s a little past midnight. I don’t suppose any of us will be getting much sleep tonight, huh?”

“Oh, oh, no it’s fine you can get some sleep. You need it, we’ll be fine.” Evan said. As if he wouldn’t be a total zombie at school tomorrow (or was that now technically today?)

Footsteps thumped down the stairs. Both Hansens turned to look at a disheveled Connor, who had pulled his hair back into a tangled, damp ponytail. Evan’s pants fit him a bit tight but the shirt was loose enough to make his bony arms stick out in sharp contrast. He fidgeted with the chipping paint on his fingernails. “Mrs. Hansen, is it alright if I stay here for the night? I can leave if you need me to--”

“Nonsense, you’re welcome to stay.” Heidi said, standing up so Connor could go back to the couch. She set her now-empty mug on the counter and turned towards them, “Are you sure you boys will be okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Get some sleep.” Evan replied. 

She gave them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and then walked into her bedroom and shut the door. The house fell back into silence.

Connor cleared his throat, “Your knees.”

“Hmm?”

Connor pointed, “Your knees, they’re scratched up.”

Evan tugged aside the rips in his jeans to reveal shallow cuts, which had stopped bleeding but were still an angry puffy red. He walked over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and ran a paper towel under the faucet. As he cleaned the wound, Connor folded up the damp towels and then sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, awkwardly cradling his mug of coffee.

“So… uh… how did you know I was going to kill myself?”

Evan tensed, glancing meaningfully in the direction of his mom’s door. Connor winced and stood up, walking over towards the stairs while still carrying his mug, “I take it the bedroom up there is yours?”

Evan nodded, and together they quietly made their way up to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them. With both of them there, the room felt smaller, and he suddenly noticed all of his childhood memorabilia spread across his shelves. Connor didn’t seem to mind, though. He didn’t seem to care about anything, walking right over to a beanbag chair and flopping down onto it. Evan paused, then lowered himself into a cross-legged position on the edge of his bed.

Connor tapped his fingers on the mug, “You know, this’ll sound crazy, but I actually kinda feel like I’ve been here before.”

Evan shook his head, “That’s not crazy! This… whatever this is,” he gestured vaguely towards his head, “I t-think it uh, has some sort of connection? B-between you and me. Our brains?”

“Never become a teacher, Hansen.” Connor said.

He ducked his head, “I k-know, I can’t explain things well. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Connor shrugged, “I don’t know what this is either. I had… I had no idea you would be able to hear or feel any of that. I’m so--”

“I couldn’t breathe.” Evan blurted out, immediately regretting his words. 

Connor stared up at him with an unreadable expression, “You mean… as in, like... when you said ‘ _ you’re killing us both _ ’?”

“I meant that literally, yeah.” Evan said. His lungs ached at the memory, and it didn’t help that he was sitting on the same bed where all of that had happened. He dug his fingers into the sheets.

“Oh shit. Shit, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t think... I mean. I thought that night, hearing your voice, was just a hallucination.” his voice abruptly dropped off at the end, like he was embarrassed to say the word. 

“Heh, yeah, I kinda did too.” Evan rubbed his arm, nails scratching against the grain of the cast. Connor seemed to notice the motion and his eyes filled with something Evan couldn’t quite identify.

“‘You let go’. Right? I remember you thinking about that, about how you injured your arm.”

Yet another topic Evan didn’t want to delve into. It was bad enough he’d just actually saved somebody from committing suicide, but now Connor could read his thoughts. Even the ones Evan had been trying so hard to hide from everyone else.

“Listen, my mom can’t know, okay? She c-can’t know, she would be s-so…” his voice choked up. He turned to hide teary eyes from Connor, but the boy didn’t move. 

“Okay.” he said, and after a pause, “But!”

Evan’s breath hitched. What could Connor possibly want from him?

“In exchange, you don’t tell my parents about tonight. Not a single word. The last time I failed, they scoured my room for anything they deemed ‘unsafe’, which means my room now looks like a prison cell. I can’t have them freaking out over me again.”

Evan nodded, gaze wandering to the rest of his decorated bedroom, which now seemed infinitely more preferable to whatever homelife Connor dealt with. After a stretch of silence that lasted a bit too long, he turned back towards Connor.

“S-so how does any of this work? The rules for this?”

Connor set his empty mug on Evan’s desk, “You mean the fact that we can now read each other’s minds and share some kind of freaky telepathic connection? Hell if I know.”

Evan eased up off the bed, beginning to pace across the carpet, “Well… we know it only seems to work at night. Late night and early morning. And I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, so maybe it’s an issue of distance?”

Connor didn’t respond, poised on the beanbag chair like a cat, eyes sliding from side to side as he watched Evan pace. Eventually he shrugged again and slouched down in the chair, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.

“You have a blanket and pillow I could use?”

Evan stopped pacing, “Oh, um, yeah. H-hold on a second!”

It seemed a bit rude to let his guest sleep in a chair, practically the floor, but the Hansens didn’t exactly get a lot of guests. Evan hadn’t invited anyone for a sleepover in years, and Heidi only came back to the house to eat and sleep. So the beanbag chair would have to do.

Not only was he lacking in a place for Connor to sleep, but he also had no idea how to handle this impromptu sleepover. Should he just toss Connor the pillow and blanket and call it a night? Could he go to the bathroom after that to brush his teeth or should he forget it and climb into bed? Then he’d be lying there for hours staring at the wall and listening to Connor snore -- did Connor snore? -- while he ended up getting no sleep and sweating under his blanket and then he’d be totally zoned out at school? Oh goodness he hadn’t even thought about what he’d do in the morning with getting a shower and changing clothes, and would Connor even want the type of cereal they had? Would he leave early or would he actually go to school with Evan? What would people think seeing the two of them together?

_ Hey dude, calm down a bit will you? You sound like a bee buzzing in my ear and its getting annoying! What’s taking so long?  _

Oh, right. Connor could read all of his most private thoughts now. Great.

He climbed up the stairs, “How much did you hear?”

Connor took the pillow and blanket from him and went back to the beanbag. “I didn’t really hear anything, not clearly anyway. Just your voice, but like going really fast and sounding kind of high-pitched. It was weird.”

“Sorry.”

“What did I say about--”

“I know, s-sorr… uh, never mind. L-let’s just go to sleep.”

It took about five minutes of awkwardly bumping around each other and Evan biting his lip to keep from apologizing, but eventually they settled into the small room and Evan turned off the lights. They lay still in complete silence, neither falling asleep.

After a while, a vague sense of restlessness and anger settled in Evan’s gut. It was starting to feel uncomfortably familiar, different from his usual anxiety and yet still making him feel mildly nauseous. He sat up in bed.

“Is that you?” he whispered.

“Mhmmph mhwm?” Connor mumbled into the beanbag.

Evan shrunk and lied back down, “Nothing. G-good night.”

It was not a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i would die for heidi hansen.
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more awkward midnight conversations ~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. i'm not shy. hmu or just hang around, things are p chill over there.


	4. Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my gooooooood this chapter was so long. thank you to everyone kudo-ing and commenting on this fic, you guys are amazing!
> 
> possible triggers: more references to Connor's attempted suicide (that should prob just be a general warning for this fic at this point), plus extreme paranoia and delusional thinking
> 
> edit: to help with readability I've changed the texting format so that whenever a character is texting multiple times in a row they are tabbed over. this will hopefully help to distinguish who is talking. enjoy!

Connor woke up to a pounding headache and a sore neck. Rolling out of bed, he tossed aside his sheets and fumbled around for his phone on his nightstand. Instead, his knuckles thunked against a piece of wood and a ceramic mug jostled somewhere above him. He squinted, cursing the fact that he’d slept with his contacts in for some reason, before he noticed that he was kneeling on a carpeted floor and he had rolled out of a beanbag chair.

Across the room, a small room, someone tossed around in a bed. Connor straightened up and stared across the dimly lit bedroom to see a boy lying in Not-His-Bed, in Not-His-Room. Where on earth was he?

The boy sat up and noticed Connor, “Oh, good morning. Didn’t realize you were awake.”

Evan Hansen. Suddenly, memories of what’d happened last night flooded his brain. He winced, trying to ignore his headache while he stood up to go use the bathroom. His body, still stubbornly expecting to be in his own room, knocked against a desk and the door handle before he found his way to the toilet.

He groaned, leaning down till his elbows rested on the sink counter. He had forgotten to pull out his ponytail before bed, and now when he did his long hair clumped oddly around his shoulders. Ignoring the tangles, he splashed cold water into his face and tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, but when he stared at the mirror the dark circles under his eyes stared back. He looked like he’d been dragged out of the grave.

Technically he kind of had been.

Poor kid. He could’ve never predicted Evan would experience his drowning right along with him. Still, as long as the kid didn’t snitch to his parents, they could just try to move past all of that and pretend it never happened.

Outside the bathroom, Evan was muttering something to himself. Probably pacing nervously while freaking out over something trivial. Maybe that was the cause of Connor’s headache. Or maybe it was because he’s tried to kill himself last night and now his body was paying for it. Either way, he just wanted to get out of that house and move on with the day.

Evan jumped when Connor opened the door. He cleared his throat and gestured to the stairs. “I-if you want breakfast, we have cereal. Or not, it doesn’t matter, I don’t even know if you like cereal, maybe you’ll just leave to eat somewhere else or do you even eat breakfast?”

“Hansen. Shut up.” Connor moaned, rubbing at his forehead. Even though he couldn’t hear Evan’s thoughts anymore, the kid was making up for it by rambling out loud. He stumbled down the stairs, squeezing his eyes shut as the lights from the kitchen pierced his brain.

He opened the nearest cabinet door and stared inside. Nothing. “Your mom up yet?”

Evan rushed over to open the correct cabinet, pulling out a noisy bag of cereal and too even-noisier bowls. Why did everything have to be so loud early in the morning?

“She already left for work, a-actually.” Evan stuttered. He was always stuttering.

Connor watched as Evan poured them each a bowl of cereal, before sitting down in a chair, legs splayed wide across the tile floor. He couldn’t be bothered to care where the rest of his body went, so long as the upper half of him managed to eat. Across the table from him, Evan didn’t touch his bowl, looking between it and Connor nervously.

“Not hungry?” he asked.

Evan blinked, “N-not in the mood, I guess.”

Perhaps if his head weren’t throbbing or his body feeling like it’d been run over, Connor would’ve cared. But it was some godforsaken hour of the morning and he had another grueling day of school to get through, plus what was sure to be an exhaustingly long speech from his mother about being out all night that devolved into a fight once Larry got home. He took out his phone from a back pocket and, without checking for texts or calls, set a reminder to go buy snacks for the inevitable grounding he was going to get. If he was lucky, he’d be able to sneak the snacks into his room and stay there for the rest of the night, without having to come down for dinner.

When he looked up at Evan, he was also on his phone, biting his lip as he scrolled through something on his screen. Connor got up from the table and went to retrieve his messenger bag, before halting in his tracks.

“Shit!”

Evan jumped, “What?”

“I left my bag at home. I’ll have to go to school without it.”

“Oh, well, I have some extra pens and paper if you want to take them.”

Connor shook his head, “Not what I meant.” He headed back upstairs to check if he’d left anything.

It was almost cute to see Evan struggle to comprehend Connor’s homelife, naively offering to share school supplies, as if Connor gave a damn about taking notes. It wasn’t as if his bag contained anything vitally important -- certainly nothing he’d take with him to have in his final moments. But he had a feeling Evan would probably faint if he saw the contents on Connor’s laptop or the carefully-hidden pack of cigarettes. The kid practically shot through the ceiling any time Connor cursed.

It was funny enough that he almost forgot he’d nearly ended his life last night. And god was that an awkward thing to wake up to. Besides the obvious physical stress, Evan had been there to witness it, possibly the whole thing. He probably had a better memory of the attempt than Connor did, considering Connor only really came to his senses once he’d been taken to Evan’s house. Everything before that was vague; he remembered Evan’s words, the ones that made him pull himself out of the lake. But the rest of it… he couldn’t even recall why he’d decided to do it, the past evening condensed into nothing but spiky anger and crushing hopelessness. It was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment, so he pulled his hair into a bun and resigned to a day full of consequences. Starting with the Hansen kid.

Evan was waiting for him at the front door with a backpack slung over his non-injured arm. Connor stopped in front of him, staring down at the cast.

“No body’s signed your cast.”

Evan tugged at the rim of his shirt, “N-no, I guess not.”

“Can I sign it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to, it’s okay--”

“You got a sharpie?” Connor asked, ignoring Evan’s protest. If he had to go to school with this kid and share his thoughts, he might as well make it up to him. Evan found a sharpie from a drawer and Connor wrote his name in big, scrawled letters.

He then walked out the front door, leaving Evan to catch up to him.  

\---------------------------------

 

Connor didn’t check the notifications on his phone until lunch time, and even then he did it with the resolve of a man awaiting a death sentence. There were two texts from Zoe, the last saying “ **fine b like tht see if i care!** ”. He ignored both of her texts.

His mother had called three times with no voicemails, but he could practically feel her disappointment radiating off his phone like heat waves. Nothing from Larry, his last text from half a year ago when he’d told Connor to order food for himself, since the rest of the family would be out.

And one text from Alana Beck.

He blinked, checking to see if he’d gotten the name right. Not that anybody else outside of his family would be texting him, but he hadn’t even shared a full conversation with her since their 10th grade English project. Which was probably how she’d even managed to get his number. Why she had saved the number for so long was beyond him.

**alana b: Hello, this is Alana Beck. We share Sociology class 4th period together.**

> **Our teacher told us we’ll be doing a project involving partners starting next week. I was wondering if you would like to be my partner.**
> 
> **If you don’t want to that’s fine.**
> 
> **I’ll ask you later on when you get to class.**
> 
> **Thank you for your time.**

Connor had no earthly idea why Alana would want to partner up with him on a project he didn’t even know existed (then again it probably would’ve helped if he’d actually gone to class that first day). He smirked (“ _thank you for your time_ ”? really?), before tapping on her text to reply.

**connor: okay**

Connor glanced at the date on his lockscreen: still only the second day of school. Groaning, he turned off his phone and flipped a pen around between his fingers. If he had his messenger bag with him, he would’ve probably been getting out a cigarette by then. For the time being, the pen would have to keep his fingers busy, even if it didn’t really improve his mood.  

The first week of school was always a drag. Freshmen got lost trying to find classes and seniors skimmed through syllabi to figure out exactly how many times they could skip without their grades suffering. The athletes prepared for tryouts, band kids hauled in their instruments, and the stoners tried to astral project themselves out of the building, because everybody just wouldn’t shut up or mind their own business. Kids like Alana Beck probably read the full syllabi and then put everyone else to shame by actually being productive.

The bell rang, and Connor stashed his phone and pen in a pocket before walking to his sociology class. By the time he found an empty desk to sit at, most of the other students were already seated and chatting with friends or getting out notebooks. He propped his feet up on his desk and closed his eyes.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, “Um, excuse me?”

He opened his eyes and tilted back further to stare at the girl seated behind him. Alana Beck stared back, a bright smile on her face. Connor had known Alana long enough to recognise the smile was laden with worry.

“You get my text?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. Although I wasn’t sure what you were replying ‘okay’ to. Did you mean ‘okay I’ll be your partner’ or ‘okay I don’t want to--’?”

“Okay I’ll be your partner.” he said.

Alana’s smile relaxed, a bit more genuine now. She pulled out a binder and flipped through neatly organized sections, “Since you missed the first day of class I made a copy of the syllabus for you.” She tugged out a packet of stapled papers and set them on Connor’s desk.

“You didn’t have to do--”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Now, the project we’ll be doing is about societal expectations and how it factors into juvenile delinquency--”

Connor held a hand up, “Hold it. You didn’t just choose me as your partner because I am a delinquent, did you?”

Alana frowned, “No. I… well, everyone else was already partnered up and…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to. Connor nodded once and then picked up his syllabus, flipping to the section about their project. It seemed fairly simple, or at least it did now that he was working with an overachiever.

He opened his mouth to ask if Alana had a piece of paper, when his gut twisted in a knot and his chest felt heavy. He gasped, looking down at his body, although it didn’t _feel_ like his body. The anxiety bubbling up inside him was distinctly foreign, especially since he hadn’t been anxious moments before. Was he really having a panic attack right there in class? For no goddamn reason?

Alana seemed to notice the change, asking if he was okay.

He couldn’t answer. His mouth wasn’t his own. His hands weren’t his own. He found to his horror that he the body he was living in was no longer his! He was certain of that! His mind reeled as he tried to talk and failed. Everyone in the class was looking at him now. And he couldn’t move or yell or scream, he was just trapped there, staring helplessly at Alana.

Who probably thought he was crazy too. Yeah, she definitely thought he was a psycho. He could hear the other students all talking behind his back, whispering that he was crazy, losing it for good this time, probably going to shoot up the whole school. He just wanted to leave and bury himself somewhere, pull himself out of this body that wasn’t his! He had to get out, he had to get out!

Finally the legs underneath him obeyed, launching him out of his seat and into the hall. He watched as the body he was in crashed into a bathroom stall door, and he crumpled in a broken heap. His head throbbed and his vision blurred as he tried to figure out how he’d gotten into the bathroom. He could still hear his classmates, now laughing, voices taunting him as he curled up into a little ball on the tile floor. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t see him, they still knew what he was doing and he could still. hear. them!

A set of shoes appeared in front of the stall he was in, and he looked up. Evan loomed over him, and he looked scared. Of course he was scared, Evan was always scared, he was always panicking over every little…

 _Evan!_ His fists clenched, mouth pulling into a snarl. Evan knew their thoughts and emotions were connected now.

“Are you okay?” Evan asked. He went to kneel down next to Connor and Connor swatted at him.

“You little shit, you knew this was going to happen! You made me freak out in front of everyone!”

Evan backed up, stumbling against the sink. Connor was suddenly up and had his hands on Evan’s shoulders, shaking him because that kid had _purposefully_ pushed Connor into a panic attack! Just to embarrass him, to make everyone in the school laugh at him, to make Alana and everyone else think he was a freak!

The pain in his chest got tighter and he growled, nails digging into Evan’s upper arms as he clung to him.

“You’re making it worse!” he yelled.

“What’s worse? What’s going on? Connor?”

Stupid stupid stupid Evan! How could he not feel the pounding headache cracking open Connor’s skull? How could he just stand there pretending like he didn’t know exactly how much pain he was causing him?

A thought occurred to him. Evan could’ve been lying about experiencing Connor’s attempted suicide. Maybe he had only heard Connor’s suicidal thoughts and wanted to play the hero, the kid who stopped crazy psychotic Connor Murphy from pulling the plug. Oh god how many people had that little shit told about saving Connor? Was that why everyone was laughing at him, because they already knew? His arms and legs shook, and he felt like he was going to pass out. The world around him spun as everything seemed to fall into place. Of course Evan was lying, he was just using him! When had anyone ever actually cared about him?!

Evan’s face appeared in front of him again. “Connor? Connor! Can you hear me?”

Connor landed on the bathroom floor and took Evan with him, collapsing in a pile. The world stopped spinning. His vision started to clear. And slowly, the sound of his classmates laughter faded away.

\---------------------------------

 

Evan landed on the bathroom floor, desperately trying to shove down his own impending panic attack as he kept Connor from banging his head on the edge of a sink. Together they collapsed, and he quickly got back up on his hands and knees, attempting to pull Connor back to reality.

He had no idea what was going on or why Alana Beck had frantically texted him multiple times during his free hour, begging him to go find Connor. He’d already been dreading next hour, a public speaking class required for graduation, and at first he ignored the notification sound. But after several of them he finally checked, and Alana never texted him about anything if it wasn’t related to schoolwork. It must’ve been serious. So he left the library and eventually found Connor, huddled on the floor and staring straight ahead, body shivering but eyes vacantly blank.

Asking Connor is he was okay ended up being a huge mistake. The boy rammed him up against the wall and started shouting nonsense, words jumbled and confused… and angry. So, so very angry.

Evan’s own anxiety, before then uncomfortable but manageable, shot up to panic levels, Connor’s anger building up inside his own gut. If he didn’t do something quick, they would both have a mental breakdown, their own emotions strengthening the other’s.

Now, lying silent on the floor, he took deep breaths, and reached to help Connor up.

“Connor, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. You just need to--” he was cut off by Connor holding up his index finger for silence. His body, once gasping for air and shivering with goosebumps, now sat still as stone, eyes hidden by his tangled hair. It terrified Evan, but at the very least, it was clear Connor was no longer hallucinating.

“Don’t. touch. me.” he said in a low voice.

“But Conn--”

Connor glared up, eyes red-rimmed, “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME YOU FREAK!”

All at once he stood up and pushed Evan aside, running out of the bathroom.

The door slowly clicked shut behind him, footsteps thundering off into the distance.

\---------------------------------

 

Heidi was waiting for Evan when he got home. She sat at the kitchen table with a textbook and some notes spread out, clicking a pen absently. When he stepped through the door her focus narrowed in on him and she set the pen down.

“Hey, honey, how was school today?”

Evan wished he could disappear into the floor. He’d known his mom would eventually want to question him, but his body was sore and his mind fuzzy.

He ran his fingers across his cast,  “It was… okay. Kinda boring actually.”

Heidi nodded slowly, “That’s good to hear. I mean, better than what it could’ve been, you know? And uh… how was your friend feeling after last night?”

Evan tried not to wince, “H-he’s fine too… doing better?”

 

“Connor Murphy, where on earth were you last night?” Cynthia appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Connor had been trying to sneak up to his room, after ditching the rest of his classes that day. Alas, stealth was apparently not one of his talents. He cringed as he resigned himself to his fate.

“Sucking my drug dealer’s dick.” he bit back.

“Connor!”

 

Heidi sighed, “Evan, I saw the look on your face when you were trying to find him. What happened last night?”

Evan shuffled past her, refusing to look her in the eye, because then he’d end up giving himself away.

“Connor was just going through a rough patch. He uh...” _come on, think of something think of something,_ “H-he went on a walk? To, uh, clear his head, a-and didn’t want to have to walk all the way back to his house so-o that’s why he texted me!”

Heidi wasn’t buying it, “Why was he wet?”

 

“Well I guess that’s just what gets me off!” Connor shouted as he climbed the stairs.

Cynthia followed, “Well you didn’t take your car. And you’re not high, I don’t think? Look, just tell me the truth. If your father--”

“Oh great, awesome, let’s drag him into this, that’ll be fun!” he called back. Connor slammed his bedroom door.

 

Evan shut his bedroom door.

On the other side, Heidi spoke up, “You know you can always come to me if you need to, right? I know I’m not around much, but… but I promise I’m always a phone call or a text away, always. You know that right?”

 

Cynthia opened the door, “Connor, don’t shut me out, please! I’m just trying to help you.”

Connor glared at her, “ _Help_ me? You want to help me? Then leave me alone!”

His mom frowned and stepped forward. “Listen, I know I haven’t always been there for you, but… but I do care about you Connor. You know that, right?”

Connor shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, “Sure, mom.”

 

Evan sat on his bed and wiped away a few stray tears. He could see his mom’s shadow under the doorway, still waiting for an answer.

He took a deep breath, “Sure, mom.”

Outside his window he could hear a car pull up and honk. Heidi’s carpool to her evening class. She seemed to hesitate for a moment at the door, before telling Evan she would leave a $20 on the counter for him to order dinner. She then left and the car drove off.

He wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry. He wanted to give in to all of the emotions he’d been holding back on for Connor’s sake, but was it really any use? This… mind thing they shared was a disaster for both of them. Perhaps two reasonable people could carefully control their emotions, use their mental link for good. But who was he kidding? He and Connor were disasters waiting to happen, feeding off each other’s fear and anger till they dragged each other down.

Evan pushed away those thoughts and forced himself to get up, rubbing away his tears. His clothes were scrunched up and his face was probably a snotty mess. He trudged to the bathroom and washed his hands, gingerly running a cool damp towel over the crescent-shaped bruises in his arms left from when Connor had been clinging onto him.

Sighing, Evan went back to his room and curled up on the beanbag chair. He knocked his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he could still faintly smell Connor’s scent on the chair from that morning. A time that now seemed a hundred years away.

The worst part about it was that he couldn’t simply escape Connor like he could escape his mom or his therapist. Connor would be there tonight, and possibly every other night, reading Evan’s mind and knowing every single one of his deepest fears and anxieties. No wonder Connor had tried to end that.

 _I just want this to end. I want it to stop._ he thought, closing his eyes.

Connor, thankfully, did not seem to hear him or reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did warn you it would get worse before it got better...
> 
> a moment of silence for when i almost wrote “Connor flipped his phone shut” like the ancient 90s kid that i am.
> 
> also lol sorry about the weird formatting at the end. i wanted to rapidly flip between the two characters, hopefully that translated well.
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more of me constantly reminding myself to spell apologize with a "z" instead of an "s" (curse my old british ways!) ~~  
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. i'm not shy. hmu or just hang around, things are p chill over there.


	5. Crickets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (i can’t believe i missed 420 hits on this fic. lmao oh well.)   
> thank u to everybody who’s been so supportive! i read every single one of your comments! 
> 
> and now, the first of the night talks…

It was going to be another muggy night, the air humid and weighing on Evan as he pleaded for sleep to overtake him. If he could just get to sleep before Connor’s thoughts started to enter his mind, then maybe he could avoid a dreaded confrontation. He lay on his back, cast resting on his stomach, trying to keep his eyes shut in the hope that it would make him fall asleep faster. But, of course, thinking about needing to sleep only kept him awake longer, and the night dragged on. 

Outside crickets chirped, the night air gaining a humming quality that made the darkness feel alive, surrounding him in on all sides. He wished he were far away from home, out in the woods somewhere lying a little ways from a crackling campfire. That far away from civilization, he could see a staggering amount of stars, too many to seem real. He remembered as a child believing there were only a few stars in existence, the small amount he could see from their house. When he finally saw a night photo taken in the wilderness, he thought it’d been manipulated.

_ Oh great, I’m being grounded for the rest of the week and you’re lounging around thinking about stars. How poetic. _ a sarcastic voice said from out of nowhere. 

He automatically tensed and looked around, knowing he wouldn’t see anything. Evan could hear Connor better than the first night, but it was still faint enough that it sounded like a low murmur. He sighed and got out of bed, pulling back his curtains to stare outside, now that he apparently wouldn’t be getting to sleep before he had to deal with Connor.

_ How are you doing? _ he asked, trying for the diplomatic approach. 

_ Oh fantastic. Just awesome! My mom is being hysterical per usual, fucking Larry nearly bit my head off when he’d found out what I told her about last night, and if you hadn’t heard, I’m grounded for the rest of the week.  _

_ What’d you tell them about last night? _ Evan frowned, peering down from his window. Fireflies twinkled in the front yard and the street was cast in a pale blue from the streetlight near the mailbox.

_ Not much. Just that I was sucking my drug dealer’s dick. _

Evan winced.  _ Connor! _

_ Don’t lecture me kid, I’ve had enough of that for today! And I’m only talking to you because I figure that’s better than having to listen to you ramble on all night about the stars and shit. Got any other obsessive interests I should know about? _

_ Trees? I like trees, a bit. _

_ Fantaaaastic. _

_ Well… _

There was a long sigh. It was weird to actually hear somebody sighing when they weren’t even in the room. Evan decided to close his eyes, both so it would be easier to concentrate on Connor’s voice as well as to pretend that he was physically there.

_ Just tell me the truth, Hansen, and don't try any shit. Remember, I can still hear your thoughts, I’ll now that you're lying! _

He didn’t. They really didn’t know how well they could keep secrets from each other. But Evan decided to ignore that.  _ Okay, I promise. _

_ Were you lying about being able to feel my suicide? Like… christ how am I gonna word this shit… uh, physically experiencing my suicide the same time I was? _

Evan startled.  _ Of course not! I mean yes? No? Wait how do I answer that question do I say yes meaning I was telling the truth or no meaning I wasn’t telling a-- _

_ Shut up, Hansen. _

_ I can’t! I have anxiety, my thoughts literally cannot shut up! _

Another sigh.  _ So you didn’t tell anyone else about my… attempt? _

_ What, no I would NEVER do that ever, I swear! We made a deal, remember? _

_ … sort of. My memories kinda blurry about the whole thing. I don’t remember that night very well. _

There was a long pause, and Evan wondered if it was actually possible Connor could turn his thoughts off or control what went through to him.

_ No I can’t do that, I just kinda lost track of where I was going. _

_ Oh. _

_ Look… today was just really fucked up, okay? I… I suffer from paranoia and psychosis. Sometimes it gets really bad and I believe shit that’s not true. And today I thought, I was  _ convinced _ , that you were lying about feeling how I felt, and had just saved me so you could tell everybody about it and laugh at me. But, now that I can hear most of your thoughts, I guess that’d be pretty hard to lie about, huh? _

Evan nodded, then realized Connor couldn’t see him.  _ Yeah, yeah, I get it. I think. I mean, I don’t usually suffer from hallucinations, but I’ve got mental problems too. If that wasn’t already obvious, of course it was, dang it why did I say that… _

And then Connor laughed. Not a harsh laugh, but a light giggle, and maybe Evan couldn’t see his smile but he could somehow feel it. 

_ You know, you shouldn’t beat yourself up so much about the anxiety thing. By the way, what happened in fourth period that made you more anxious than normal? I think you getting really worried ended up getting to me too. I didn’t even know what was going on, I thought I was having a panic attack for no reason! _

Evan scratched the back of his neck.  _ Eh… yeah, sorry about that.  _

_ What did I say-- _

_ I know I know I can’t help it. These are my thoughts I can’t stop my thoughts! _

_ Fair enough. _

_ It’s my public speaking class. We have to take it for graduation, and I’ve been putting it off till senior year. I guess I stupidly thought my anxiety would be better by then or something. That’s what made me worried. _

_ Oh dude that shit sucks, I took that class last year. Teacher’s a fucking gremlin, she hated me. _

_ Gee thanks. Also, could you maybe stop cursing so much? It’s weird. _

_ These are my thoughts I can’t stop my thoughts.  _ Connor mimicked. His voice sounded higher-pitched when he was imitating Evan. 

_ I do not sound like-- _

_ You sound EXACTLY like-- _

_ Okay okay, well, try it anyway. I’ll try to stop apologizing and you try to stop cursing. _

_ I mean sure but I can’t promise I’ll be a fucking angel-- a freakin-- awww shi-- damnit I can’t say-- noooooooo why is this so hard damn---dang it! _

Evan burst out laughing, and it was so nice to feel his shoulders shake and his cheeks hurt from grinning too much. It seemed like he hadn’t laughed in ages. When he paused to listen, Connor was laughing too, light and soft and rare.

_ Hey, I’m sorry about how I was acting today at school. And for signing your cast so big -- so hugely? -- whatever, you know what I mean. Do you? _

Evan smiled.  _ I do. And I forgive you, even though I kind of started the whole thing.  _

Connor probably wanted to tell him that he wasn’t at fault, but he managed to bite back a comment. They both sat there in the darkness, quietly listening to the crickets and the hum of the night air. Evan wondered if Connor heard the same things outside his window that he did.

_ Yeah, pretty much. Crickets are crickets, dude. Although idk if you can hear this but there’s a couple of the neighbor’s kids playing basketball out in their driveway. Pretty sure they’re drunk. _

_ Did you just say ‘idk’? Like as a texting thing? _

_ Shut u-- _

_ ‘Shut up, Hansen’ I know I know. _ Evan grinned. _ I can’t hear them, guess this doesn’t work that way. It’s still really weird being able to hear you so clearly. I mean, come to think of it, I never have these kind of conversations with anybody else. Like this well? Or long? I think the most I ever talk to anyone is with my mom and she’s barely ever around. _

_ I’d tell you to respect your mother but I feel like you already know she’s doing the best for you anyway, so yeah. _

_ I do. I really do, I know she’s trying. I just… wish she was around more. _

_ I’ll trade you your mom for mine any time.  _

_ Oh yeah, I meant to ask about that: how does being grounded for the rest of the week work? _

_ I mean obviously I’m still going to school. Fucking L-- Freaking Larry would never let me off the hook that easily. But Zoe is gonna be driving me to and from school and any time after that I’ll have to stay home. Without technology either, they took my computer and phone away, I feel like a caveman. Jokes on them, I still feel like I’m talking on the phone with you. _

_ Heh, yeah.  _ Evan went back over to his bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. At the mention of Zoe his mind began to wander, only barely stopping himself from going too far as he realized he’d actually been thinking about his crush on Zoe!

_ Oh yeah about that, stop being such a weirdo-- _

_ No no no I’m so sorry, I tried to stop that! I swear I don’t really have all that much of a crush on her anymore. _

_ Dude, you were just thinking abou-- _

_ I know I know but I’m really not that into her anymore. Turns out extreme amounts of stress and developing a psychic link with your crush’s brother makes it hard to care about dating anymore. _

If they hadn’t been sharing thoughts, Evan had a feeling Connor probably wouldn’t have believed him. But since Evan’s mind was apparently laid bare before him, Connor figured he was telling the truth and let the matter rest. Although Evan was fairly sure he could still hear muttered colorful threats coming from the back of Connor’s brain.

_ So I know this will sound a bit random, but why didn’t you eat breakfast? Actually, have you eaten anything today? _

Evan wanted to tell Connor yes, but his thoughts betrayed him.  _ No, not really. I get anxious about other people watching me eat, like maybe they’ll think I’m gross or chewing too loud or something? So that’s why I didn’t eat breakfast with you. Same thing with ordering dinner, my mom left money but I’m terrified of answering the door because then I’ll have to deal with change and what if I drop the money and what should I say to them and-- _

_ Hansen… _

_ I know, shut up, I’m sorry. _

_ No. _ Connor said firmly.  _ No don’t apologize for that. If you feel that bad about something, or scared or whatever, just… tell me or something, yeah? Maybe I could help with that. _

_ Really? Like how? _

_ … what time is it? Sorry, I always use my phone and I haven’t had a wall clock in years. _

Evan rolled over, checking his lockscreen.  _ Almost 2am, why? _

He could hear a faint murmuring noise, like Connor was scheming up a plan.  _ If you’re okay with it, I’d like to try something out. You hungry? _

As if on cue, Evan’s stomach gurgled.  _ Yeah, now that you mention it. Why, what do you have in mind? _

_ We’re going to put this telepathic link to use! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i’ll get around to writing about the other characters, for now i just really wanted to focus on connor and evan.
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more night talks~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. I’m not shy. fun things you’ll find over on my blog include me crying while listening to deh songs and adoring the beautiful fan art people make.


	6. Symbiosis

The plan was crazy, the kind of thing only sleep-deprived people would be down for. The fact that Evan didn’t even hesitate when Connor suggested ordering a pizza at 2am probably meant it was crazy. But Evan was hungry and his body was tired, and by that point he didn’t care. If he could find a useful purpose for the odd hand fate had dealt him, he would take it.

The good thing about modern technology was that he could skip human interaction altogether while placing his order and simply go through check-out online. He would order for himself, and then deal with the dreaded task of answering the door with Connor’s help. 

_ Veggie pizza? Really? C’mon Hansen, don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian. _

Evan clicked through the menu.  _ No, I’m not. But what’s wrong with being vegetarian? _

_ Nothing, I guess. It’s just that my mom goes through these “phases” where she gets obsessed with this new diet or fad. Usually only lasts a couple weeks. Me and Zoe have been guinea pigs for everything from the natural health of a Mediterranean diet to the tasteless gunk that’s supposed to be gluten-free. _

Evan winced.  _ Your mom wasn’t by any chance against vaccinations was she? _

_ No, but I wouldn’t have put that past her... Hey, you okay? I just felt my stomach kinda get woozy, was that you? _

Evan leaned back in his chair, sighing.  _ Yeah, that’s me. Did you, uh, just hear what I was thinking a couple seconds ago? _

_ Nah, I was too busy remembering all the other diets my poor gut had has to survive. What’s up? _

It wasn’t really much use hiding it. Connor would figure out sooner or later; it was better to tell him by his own choice. He held his breath.  _ I’m autistic. I’m sorry, I know the vaccination thing was stupid, but stuff like that tends to freak me out.  _

_ Aww shit, I’m sorry. Probably should’ve thought that one through.  _

_ It’s okay. _

_ Hey man, you eat that veggie pizza, I know you can do it! _

Evan giggled.  _ Of all the people I thought could end up being my personal cheerleader, you were probably my last choice. _

_ What can I say, I’m feeling generous tonight. So, onto my order… _

_ Wait, you’re grounded right? You can’t come over to my house. _

_ Yeaaaaahh, but I can sneak out of my room and wait for the delivery guy at the door. Just put mine on a separate order, I’ll pay for it. _

Evan glanced at the $20 on the kitchen table and tried to hide his relief that Connor was paying for himself. He doubted whatever Connot was about to order would allow both of them to eat for only $20. He asked for Connor’s address and Connor relayed it to him, voice as clear as if he were standing in the room. The fact that he was actually able to do that made Evan grin.

_ Okay get me a large-size of the meat lover's, extra cheese if they have the option.  _

Evan selected the choice.  _ Drinks? _

_ No, see that’s the beauty of this. I already managed to smuggle some soda into my room when I got home. And thanks to you I can get some food to last me awhile, even though they took my computer and phone away from me! It’s genius!  _

_ You’re not just doing this for yourself, are you? _ Evan asked hesitantly.

_ I’m mean I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of myself when I came up with the plan, but the main focus is you. I want you to eat, and if this works then you won’t have to worry about not knowing what to say to the delivery guy.  _

Evan breathed deeply.  _ Okay. Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this!  _ He clicked to place both their orders.

As they sat waiting in their separate homes for the pizza to arrive, Evan attempted to control the inevitable tide of fears that popped into his mind. Connor, for his part, seemed willing enough to let him ramble, occasionally commenting with an observation that would help put Evan’s skewed thoughts into focus. It wasn’t perfect, and after awhile he could feel Connor getting a bit annoyed, but he assured Evan that he knew he couldn’t regulate his thoughts, and that he’d rather hear him buzzing in the back of his brain than apologizing for something he had no control over.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably more like ten minutes, the doorbell rang. Evan immediately tensed and felt his anxiety spiking.  _ They’re here. _

_ Okay, okay. Now listen, it’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna do great. Just tell me whatever the person says and I’ll tell you what to say back.  _

Evan snatched up the $20 bill and walked over to the door, palms sweating as he pulled the front door open. A short guy wearing a company polo squinted up at Evan, asking if he’d gotten the address and order right.

“Y-yes, t-that’s right.” Evan stammered, hating how wobbly his voice sounded. He passed the bill to the delivery guy and took the pizza box in exchange.

_ How’s it going? _

_ Uh, okay, I think? I don’t know he’s counting change? Should I say something to him? _

_ Not if he doesn’t say something first. Most of the time delivery guys aren’t much for conversation. _

“Doesn’t sound like you have a party going on in there. What’s the occasion?” the delivery guy asked.

Evan paled, “W-what?”

_ Code red! Code red! He asked me a question! _

_ What’d he ask? _

“I mean you’re ordering a pizza at 2:30 in the morning. Most people who do that are either drunk, stoned, or both and having a party.” the guy shrugged, “Just curious.”

_ Why am I ordering a pizza at 2:30 in the morning? _

_ Cause you’re hungry. _

“I-I’m just hungry, t-that’s all.” Evan said. He watched as the delivery guy counted the rest of the change, and then held his cupped hand out. Not sure what to do, Evan held out the pizza box for the guy to plunk down a few dollars and some coins. 

“Have a good night!” the guy called, turning to leave. As he headed back to his car, Evan closed the door with his shoulder and then leaned back onto the nearest counter, letting out a sigh of relief. He could distantly hear Connor laughing.

_ What? _

Connor snorted.  _ “Code red”? We never decided on a code, you dork! _

Evan blushed.  _ I just said whatever came to mind, I don’t know!  _ He shoveled the money onto the kitchen table and sat down, tipping open the lid of the box. _ Has your delivery arrived yet? _

_ Yeah, they just pulled up to my neighbor’s driveway. I’d better meet them outside so they don’t ring the doorbell and wake everybody up. _

_ You gave me your neighbor’s address? _

_ Well of course, I can’t take the chance that my family wakes up just in time to see a car in our driveway.  _

Evan sighed in exasperation and dug into a gooey slice of pizza. Without anybody there to watch or care about his manners, and with the issue of the delivery guy taken care of, he found it a lot easier to eat. After a couple bites he stood up and went to pour himself a glass of water. 

Connor’s voice came back again.  _ Thanks for the pizza, by the way. Couldn’t have pulled this off without you. _

_ No problem. _ Evan said, finding it hilariously funny that he could talk perfectly fine in his mind even though he had a mouthful of food. Maybe there were some benefits to this mental connection.

\---------------------------------

 

Connor waved goodbye to the girl who’d delivered his pizza and then walked back to the house, where he’d left the front door cracked open a bit. He slid inside and carefully clicked the door shut, moving the lock back into place. He then made his way up the stairs towards his room, knowing exactly where to step to avoid any creaking.

“Connor?” someone whispered.

_ Yeah? _ he thought, and then realized the voice was coming from the other side of the hallway. He whirled around to find Zoe standing in her doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“What are you doing? Is that a pizza?”

He propped open the lid, letting the scent waft over to her side, “Want a slice?”

She shook her head, “Not hungry. How’d you even get that?”

His fingers tapped on the side of the box, desperately craving a cigarette he could’ve really used right about then. “I telepathically projected my desire for food into the atmosphere and the pizza delivery heard my calling.”

Zoe rolled her eyes, “Whatever, dumbass. Just pray mom and dad don’t smell that meat lover’s coming from your bedroom.”

Connor winced, hurrying into his room and shutting the door. He could hear her doing the same, probably thinking he was on some kind of drugs and she didn’t want to deal with it. Well, better for him. He settled down on his bed and stuffed his mouth with pizza, cracking open a bottle of soda he’d hidden behind his nightstand. Maybe there would be an upside to this bizarre connection he shared with Evan Hansen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh lookit me using big, fancy words for my chapter title. i knew pbs kids taught me something useful.
> 
> tbh i’ve enjoyed writing these past two chapters so much! but it’s also kinda a new format, so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it!
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more sleep-deprived 2am shenanigans~~  
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. I’m not shy. fun things you’ll find over on my blog include me crying while listening to deh songs and adoring the beautiful fan art people make.


	7. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GAAAH i’m sorry this update is so late compared to the other ones. turns out being able to write from experience about mental illnesses includes suffering from mental illnesses. 
> 
> good news though, i’m getting help for that stuff now, and i have an idea now of where i want the plot to go. hooray! 
> 
> also completely irrelevant sidenote: can i just say i love michael lee brown?? holy shit that boy has now sung every part of "sincerely me" and i'm so proud of him. understudies are bamf.

It was pouring down rain by the time his classes ended, and Evan couldn’t have been more relieved. After a long, hot first week of school it was finally Friday, and he was fully prepared to go home, crash on his couch, and watch TV for several mind-numbing hours. School was demanding enough without the addition of his dreaded public speaking class, so combined they drained his energy and made him want to curl up and never think about classwork again.

He’d just collapsed on the couch with a remote control in hand, when his phone chimed. He glared at the offending device for a few seconds, deciding on whether or not he wanted to put in the effort of getting up. On the one hand, it could be spam, on the other hand it could be his mom sending him an urgent message to come to the hospital because she’d been in a car wreck.

He ended up checking his phone.

**jared: so whats up with you n hot topic boy??**

Evan sighed and fidgeted with his phone, staring at the dim screen. Jared had only texted him a few times for notes and homework, not bothering to question him on his social life -- mainly because Evan never had one. But Jared had apparently noticed at some point that Evan and Connor were starting to hang around each other more, whether it was arriving to school together or eating lunch in the library. For some reason, Jared now decided to take interest in Evan’s laughable excuse for a social life.

 **evan: You maen Connoe?**  

> ***Connor**

He barely had time to correct himself before a new one popped up.

**jared: got any other emo boys hiding around ?**

**evan: No! It doesnt matter. Connor an I just talk sometimes.**

He didn’t get an answer for several minutes, before a new text popped up on screen.

**jared: fine whtever . got plans 2day?**

The answer, which they both knew, was no. Usually this was when Evan replied “no”, and Jared asked him if he wanted to hang out and play videogames together, because maybe his parents thought he wasn’t spending enough time with Evan. He was only ever invited over in those cases, and that was usually once or twice a month. Then Evan would walk over to Jared’s house, dutifully pick up a controller, and the two would barely talk over the course of several hours until dinner time when Evan would politely decline to stay and Jared’s mom would insist he stay for dinner, and since Evan was a doormat he would stutter and eventually agree.

Evan almost tapped out his usual reply, when a new notification popped up. Which. Never happened. It wasn’t from his mom, and it wasn’t a new one from Jared, so who…?

The phone number meant nothing to him, completely unfamiliar. The message following it didn’t help.

**unknown: hey do u wanna hang out?**

It could’ve theoretically been sent from anybody, except the list of people who might want to hang out with him was pathetically short. Still, all the lessons about stranger danger Evan had learned from elementary school were rearing up in alarm.

**evan: Who is this?**

A short pause, then an even shorter reply:

**unknown: connor**

Evan’s eyebrows shot up, and he felt an odd flutter in his stomach as he realized Connor was actually texting him! He changed the name in his contacts and then typed hastily.

**evan: I thougt so, just cheking! Couln’t esee your name.**

**connor: ur cast makes it hard to type?**

Evan winced at the number of typos in his text and very carefully corrected his next one.

**evan: Yes. How do you have your phone? And my number?**

He heard a notification sound, but Connor hadn’t responded. Suddenly, he remembered he’d left Jared’s question hanging. He swiped back over to see Jared asking **“dude u there ??”**

Oh. Evan sat back on the couch and stared blindly at the paused TV screen. He still didn’t have plans for the afternoon… except now he possibly did? If he took Connor up on his offer to hang out, he wouldn’t have to resign himself to hours losing to Jared and an uncomfortable meal pretending to be good buddies in front of Jared’s parents.

A tiny chime. He looked down to see Connor had answered.

**connor: mom got it back for me. and i kinda heard ur number when u were thinking bout it last night. anyway offer still stands**

Evan drummed on his thigh, glancing down at Connor’s name written across his cast in big letters. Jared hadn’t signed his name.

No one else had.

**evan: Yeah okay! Wheree should I meet you?**

**connor: i’ll pick u up at ur house**

He stood up and grabbed his jacket, answering Jared’s question with a quick “ **already have plans** ” before heading towards the door. He knew he didn’t need to leave so early, since he only had to walk to the front of his driveway, but he felt something coursing through his veins that made him giddy with excitement.

There were few pleasant surprises left in life, and Connor was the one that managed to keep him guessing.

\---------------------------------

 

Of all the destinations Evan obsessively wondered about during the drive over, Connor’s house was the last place on the list. His surprise must’ve shown, because Connor smirked and nodded.

“Yep, that’s the old homestead. Isn’t it just awful.”

He said it like there was no room for argument, but Evan still thought calling the house ‘awful’ was a bit of a stretch. It sat at the end of a long, smooth driveway, which emptied out into three garages. The Murphy house swung around in the shape of a giant two-story L, and though it wasn’t dark out yet, several of the rooms were brightly lit. Inside Evan could see sofas and counters and possibly an upstairs study, all framed by heavy silk curtains. He felt like he was walking into the front cover of a homes and gardening magazine, flipping to an article about the glamour and dignity of the Traditional French Country style.

It was the exact opposite of awful.

Connor pulled the car to a stop in front of one of the garages and quickly got out, yanking his keys out of the ignition. Evan fumbled to follow after him, catching glimpses of potted plants and freshly mown grass before they rounded the far side of the house and rushed down a stone path to a tall wooden gate. Connor brushed aside a bit of hanging ivy, and twirled his keychain around till he found a key that opened the gate.

“So the thing about being partially-grounded is that my parents won’t let me leave the house for too long. Sorry, I know. It sucks.” he swung the gate open and stepped through, beckoning Evan to follow.

Over Connor’s shoulder, Evan could see a path lined with canopying trees, descending into some sort of hollow, where the trees cast cool shadows onto the sunken area. The rain had stopped, but water still dripped from glistening leaves. Each few feet they would step down onto a lower tiered terrace, and through the trees and boxwood hedges he could see swaths of lavender and pearl-white sculptures. The whole place, combined with the house towering above like a castle, spoke of prestige, history, and carefully-tended elegance. And it also felt totally untouched.

“The nice thing about my parents’ obsession with having a nice yard is that there are plenty of places to hide out. But this place is my favorite.” Connor said, stepping aside and leaning against a beech tree. Evan took in the hollow with one sweeping glance, and could immediately see why Connor preferred it to the rest of the garden.

It was small, well-hidden, and sheltered by willow trees that swayed gently in the wind. Beech branches made up a criss-crossing skeleton above them, from which small violet flowers dangled. The walls of the hollow were formed by partially exposed red brick that had long since been forgotten and were now covered in tangled vines. And in the center was a circular pool, choked by algae and mud.

“We used to go swimming in there all the time as kids.” Connor said quietly, sitting down on a bench and tossing his legs out across the mossy ground, “Obviously that was a long time ago. Eventually Larry removed the ladder and let the place get run down.”

Evan tentatively sat down next to Connor, staring into the pool. He could almost imagine tinier versions of Connor and Zoe shrieking and splashing, little floaties strapped to their arms and beach towels waiting on a nearby bench.

“S-so why are you t-telling me this?” he asked, biting his lip.

Connor smirked, “I forgot how much you stutter when you’re speaking.”

“S-sorry, I’m s-sorry, I don’t m-mean to--”

“It’s okay, dude.” Connor said, “Better than not talking at all. I just meant you sound different when you’re thinking. Nothing wrong with that.”

Evan looked down and played with the hem of his shirt, “O-okay.”

Connor leaned back against the red brick wall behind them and blew out a sudden gust of air, “Christ, I haven’t been here in ages. My own backyard and yet here I am, practically a stranger.”

“W-what made you come back?” Evan asked, also leaning back but then sitting back up again when he found he couldn’t get into a comfortable position.

“I think I was just bored. I mean, I can’t leave the house. And I’m sick of staying in my bedroom. Figured this would be a nice place to hide out until dinner.”

Evan gulped, “Dinner?”

Connor abruptly sat up, staring at Evan with an unreadable expression, “I did tell you my parents invited you to dinner, right? Please tell me I told you that.”

He fidgeted with his shirt, “N-no.”

Connor winced, “Dammit, I thought I did. Shit, sorry about that. Yeah, so, uh… my parents kinda found out about us hanging out somehow.” he said, and from his tone Evan was almost certain the ‘somehow’ was named Zoe. “Hearing I actually had a friend just about did them in. My mom insisted I invite you over and, well, I kinda wanted my phone back…”

His voice trailed off, but Evan could fill in the rest of his sentence just fine. A phone in exchange  for a friend. Which wasn’t particularly bad; Evan would probably do the same thing in that situation. It just felt weird, and the reality that he was going to be sitting in on an awkward dinner with parents settled into his gut seconds later.

“Wait so, this is happening? I m-mean, the dinner thing? I’m going to meet y-your parents?”

Connor sighed, “Yep. Well. I mean if you want to leave I can drive you back home and I’ll just deal with them later. That’s fine too.” he shrugged, eyes cast downward.

Evan stood up, “No, it’s f-fine. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

The pitying look Connor gave him twisted Evan’s stomach. But Connor just put on a customary smirk and stood up too, strolling across the small enclosure before taking out his phone. The blue light lit his face in stark lines, and for a second Evan thought he looked nervous.

Then he stuffed his phone back in his pocket and straightened up, nodding towards the house, “Dinner’s about ready. You gonna be okay?”

Evan faltered, knowing the truthful answer for dinners with parents was always a definite no. But he had to do this for Connor. To show his parents that their son really could be a good kid, that there was hope, that Connor could be a somewhat-normal teenager too. So he braced himself and put on what he hoped was a convincing smile, and told Connor he would be fine.

Connor gave Evan that strange, pitying look again, before they both headed back up to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, comment, and subscribe for more of me hastily scrolling through pinterest trying to figure out what counts as 'rich people houses' ~~ 
> 
> i really love hearing from you guys! feedback helps keep me motivated and know where to go from here. and thank you so much to everyone who has given this fic love already <333
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. if you ever want to chat i hang out there.


	8. A Broken Ecosystem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've wanted to write this chapter for a while now. you'll see why.
> 
> possible triggers: swearing (but tbh that's the whole fic), minor ptsd flashback

Zoe stared down blankly at her plate as she ran her spoon through whatever health food her mother had prepared for that night. The dinner table was unbearably silent, save for the occasional clink of silverware on plates as the Murphy family suffered their way through dinner. In all ways it was a typical evening, save for a few details:

One, they had gotten out the nice dinnerware, as if they ate on fine china all the time.

Two, Evan Hansen was there, and he was making a mess of his gluten-free chicken tetrazinni. 

Her mother cleared her throat and leaned forward, “So… Evan. How did you and Connor meet?”

It was a simple enough question, one the Evan boy should’ve seen coming, but he still stuttered through a response, eyes darting between Cynthia Murphy and his plate. Zoe felt sorry for him, in the way a prisoner felt sympathy for a new inmate who clearly did not deserve their incarceration. And in the same way, she also felt a bit like a prisoner eyeing their new inmate as a possible source of rare entertainment. 

“Well it’s wonderful to hear that Connor is making friends.” her mother said like a question, the end trailing a bit too long to be certain.

Neither of the boys sitting across from Zoe were making it easy for Cynthia. While Evan provided vague nods and played with his food, Connor sat in stony silence, glaring down at the table. The only one who seemed to be actually eating was Larry, and he did so by reaching around his phone screen and stabbing blindly at whatever had been put on his plate.

In some ways, nothing had really changed. For the past few months, Cynthia had been insisting on bonding time at dinner, asking questions about their day and trying to soothe any tempers that already flared. But whatever her mother had hoped to accomplish was long gone and far too late. 

Evan suddenly spoke up, “You have a very lovely home, Mrs. Murphy. I really like your gardens.”

Cynthia brightened up considerably, and she confidently plunged a fork into a piece of her chicken, “Why yes, the gardens  _ are _ very lovely this time of year. I’m so glad you noticed, you must have an eye for design!” She pointed at Evan with her loaded fork.

Evan blushed, “Actually, I just really like plants. And trees…”

His voice faded at the mention of trees, and Zoe looked up in time to see a shadow of a wince cross his face. She knew it too well. There were plenty of times she’d been obsessed about one subject or another and at some point would realize no one else wanted to hear about it anymore. Then she would trail off, wishing she could backtrack to the time when she wasn’t annoying to others. 

She sat up, “What are some of your favorite plants?”

There was a huffed snort from Connor, who mumbled something that made Evan wilt. Zoe tensed, but sent Evan an encouraging smile anyway. She wasn’t going to let her brother ruin yet another evening at the table.

“Oh, um, w-well… I don’t suppose I really have one favorite. Uh, but, I do think redwood trees are pretty cool? Th-they’re not just trees, you see, they’re so big that they become a whole ecosystem because of how thick their canopy is.”

Zoe nodded, if only to make Evan feel like he wasn’t talking to thin air. It was nice to have words to fill up the silence, a silence that normally made Zoe want to shrink down and disappear. Evan could’ve been rambling about trees for the entire rest of the dinner and she would’ve been fine with that.

But good things never remained long in the Murphy household. This time it began with her father.

Larry glanced over the top of his phone and interrupted Evan, “How did you say you and Connor met?”

“Larry.” Cynthia quietly admonished. 

Evan blinked and his shoulders sunk, “Uh, um, j-just at school. W-we’re doing a project together.”

“Oh? What about?” Larry asked. 

Zoe shivered. Larry never asked about school unless it had to do with how low Connor’s grades were, or how he was getting emails complaining about Connor’s low attendance, or god forbid the times Connor got caught at school with a cigarette. He never asked about schoolwork. Definitely not about partnered projects. 

Evan was stuttering and mumbling again, seemingly retreating back inside his head. Beside him, Connor suddenly looked up, hair falling back to reveal a dark frown on his face that made Zoe want to vanish. It was the frown that started fights and ended with Zoe running to her room and putting on noise-cancelling headphones. 

Evan, of course, was completely oblivious. He continued to stammer, “He’s helping me w-with my public speaking class. That’s all!”

Cynthia cut in, “I thought Connor took that class last year?”

“You mean barely passed last year.” Larry grumbled. 

“W-well, yeah, but he’s just helping. I meant, when I s-said he was helping with a project--”

Larry squinted at Evan, “Connor is helping  _ you _ with schoolwork when he can’t even do his own?” 

“I AM HERE IN THE ROOM, YOU KNOW!” Connor yelled, and everyone else went quiet.

Zoe wanted to scream.

Larry set down his phone and took off his reading glasses, “Connor, do not shout--”

Connor gripped the edge of the tablecloth, teeth bared, “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here, I’m not gone yet! And stop asking Evan so many fucking questions!”

Cynthia frowned, “Connor!”

“Now listen here, young man--!”

Then all at once the three of them were arguing, and shouting in Connor’s case. Whatever bit of peace had been present beforehand had now flitted out of the room, leaving brewing chaos in its wake. Evan slunk down in his chair, eyes darting between the the two adults and Connor. Mostly towards Connor.

Zoe wanted to scream. She couldn’t scream. Everyone else was already screaming.

Connor’s fist banged on the table and Zoe automatically flinched. She forced down the urge to hide, to excuse herself, and run up the stairs and lock her bedroom door. Perhaps on any other night, when they didn’t have guests over, she could get away with that. Guests, however, always took priority. She had to seem like part of a good family. Not a perfect one. They couldn’t manage perfect. But good enough to appear stable and encouraging.

Right now the only thing her parents were encouraging was another night of Connor charging out of the house and finding someplace to get weed. A memory flashed in her mind of Connor’s red glaring eyes hunting her down in the middle of the night, being chased through hallways and tripping on stairs. She couldn’t escape. She was trapped. He was banging at her door and screaming that he was going to kill her, kill her, kill her,  _ I’m going to fucking kill you! _

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she startled, body ready to bolt. She blinked and looked up to see Evan standing next to her chair, finger still reaching out to where she’d been sitting moments before. 

“Uh, h-hey, y-you okay? You were just kinda sitting there with this blank look on your face.” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. It was then Zoe finally noticed Connor’s name on his cast, and god what had her brother done to convince Evan to let him sign his cast?

She looked around. The dining room was empty, and her mother was in the kitchen washing dishes, radio playing loudly. Larry and Connor were nowhere in sight, but from the sounds of it they had been forced to continue the fight elsewhere. Any minute now she expected to hear the front door slam and Larry yell a final threat, unheard by Connor and crystal clear to Zoe. 

Evan would need a ride home probably. She sighed and got up from the table, heading for the foyer where she’d left her purse. She felt like she was cleaning up after a natural disaster, ushering a survivor to safety.

However, before she could find her car keys, Connor stormed into the room and announced he was going to take Evan home. Evan gave Zoe one final worried glance, before following on Connor’s heels like an anxious puppy. Only once the front door slammed shut did Zoe finally rush up the stairs and close her own door, firmly locking it and turning to press her back against it.

Her room was supposed to be a sanctuary, asylum from the storms that battered against her door, threatening to surge in, and then withdrawing only when the damage had been done. Here she had her guitar, and her magazines, and her posters, and her music. Now it felt barren, not because her room was too empty but because everything in it couldn’t protect her. No amount of hours listening to music was going to make the memories go away. No amount of crafts  and obsessed interests she threw herself into were going to stop her from cringing any time someone slammed a door or walked a little too loudly down the hallway.

A little part of her hated herself for forgetting. As painful and sudden as memories were, forgetting about it was the same as being lulled into a dangerous sense of security. When there hadn’t been a fight in a while, when Connor wasn’t smoking, when the house was quiet and her friends were sharing funny videos, then she could forget. She’d lose track of time, too wrapped up in her latest project or practicing for jazz band, and when she was like that the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was her and her guitar and that was all she needed.

Then someone raised their voice. Started an argument. Punched a wall. The cycle began all over again.

Zoe collapsed onto her bed and instantly regretted it. The sheets were a stale cold against her skin, and she kept forgetting to change them, and wait was her room always so messy? Was that three cups of water on her nightstand and one on her desk and one on the floor? She groaned and rolled off the bed, picking each of them up. She made her way across her room, tossing candy wrappers and old music sheets in the general direction of her trash can. It helped sometimes, oddly enough, to clean on nights like this one. Then she only had to pay attention to the next wrapper in front of her, or the sheets on the bed, and no matter how long it took Zoe, she was guaranteed to find another small bit of her room that was in utter disarray. There was no shortage of mess in her life. So she cleaned up, one piece at a time.

Downstairs, someone accidentally dropped a plate, and it landed in a loud crash. Zoe flinched, and then the world fell apart all at once. She crumpled down on the floor, as sobs wracked her body and tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was like this, or what was wrong with her, or if there was a way to mend her family.

All she knew was that she’d have to fix it. Piece by piece by piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this house we love and appreciate zoe murphy.
> 
> i wasn’t actually planning on writing zoe as lowkey adhd but it happened anyway. and i’m pretty sure she has ptsd. :’(
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more great tree facts~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. join me for fun content such as being gay for laura dreyfuss and appreciating the deh cast.


	9. Like An Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a list of things to celebrate:
> 
> \+ 130 KUDOS HOORAY!!! this is the highest number of kudos i’ve ever gotten on a fic and i’m so humbled thank you all so much!  
> \+ this fic has reached over 1000 hits??!!! that’s so awesome thank u to everyone who has read this!  
> \+ and extra special thanks to all the lovely people who have commented and kept me going, y’all are the real mvp  
> \+ also i’ve reached 69 followers on my tumblr so obvs i have now levelled up in life >:) 
> 
> possible triggers: mentions of suicide

The leather of the seats in Connor’s car frayed at the edges, tiny pieces flicking off as Evan rubbed a thumb over the raised seams. Beside his legs, a half-empty can of soda jostled in its cup, and on the dashboard vents there was a little clip-on air freshener that did little to hide the scent of cigarettes. He rested back in his seat,  tugging on his seatbelt to keep it from biting into his chest, but he knew the seatbelt wasn’t the true cause of the tightness he felt.

They had fought. Well, more specifically Connor and his parents had fought, and even then Connor’s mom had eventually backed down and insisted the two men take it to another room. In an instant, the chaotic atmosphere of the dining room dwindled to a simmering heat. Larry stood and excused himself in a dignified manner, like he was being called out of a business meeting. Connor shoved his chair in before stalking out of the room, fists clenched at his side.

“I’m so sorry, Evan. It isn’t always like this.” Cynthia assured him, “I’m afraid this week has been a bit difficult for Connor.”

‘For Connor’. Just for Connor. No mention of his dad, who was currently issuing a stern warning followed by Connor’s sharp laugh. Evan shakily stood up, glancing at the door both men had exited, before looking back towards Cynthia.

“It’s the first week of school. Those are always hard.” he offered, and Cynthia took the excuse with a grateful but tight smile, before picking up a few dirty dishes and heading to the kitchen. The only person left in the dining room was Zoe, who stared off into the distance. Evan wondered how long she’d been doing that.

He tapped her gently on the shoulder and she startled, staring up at him with spooked eyes. When he asked what was wrong she didn’t reply, instead slowly taking in the sight of a deserted dining room. All of a sudden she stood up, treading into the hallway, and Evan rushed to catch up with her.

“A-are you okay?” he tried again, narrowly missing banging his knee into a sharp corner. He got no answer from Zoe, who seemed to be searching for something, when Connor suddenly entered the foyer.

His eyes were red-rimmed and sore, but the rest of his face tensed in a snarl. He grabbed his coat from the banister and yanked the front door open.

“Come on Evan, I’m taking you home.” he announced, and then he was gone, and exactly how many times that evening was Evan going to find himself chasing after a Murphy?

Connor did wait long enough for Evan to get in the car, and then he roared out of driveway with one final raised middle finger that nobody but Evan could see. He wished he could shrink down and get lost in the fraying leather of his seat, and remained quiet for what was sure to be a long and tense ride home.

As the streetlamps flew by and houses began to take on a familiar turn, Connor’s temper fizzled out. He drummed on the steering wheel, jaw strained as the memories of the dinner began to settle in.

Connor grimaced and his tapping quickened, “Dammit! I blew the whole thing!”

Evan stopped picking at the unraveling seams, “Um, well, not all of it… I mean. Wait, no, I mean you d-didn’t ruin anything, it was your dad.” He said it with a bit more confidence than he felt.

Connor sighed and pulled the car over to a stop underneath a streetlamp. He leaned back with his arms still tightly grasping the steering wheel, staring out into the twilight dusk.

“You don’t have to make excuses for me, Evan. I know I messed up that dinner. I should’ve handled it better.” he paused, “And, uh, sorry about the swearing. I know you wanted me to stop that.”

Evan nodded shyly. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

“I hate when this happens. I hate… this.” Connor gestured to himself, before letting his arms collapse in his lap, “Every time I think I’ll be a better person I go freaking psycho on everybody. That’s… that’s not an excuse, I know that. Umm. But… I’m sorry, I really am. I wanted you to have a normal dinner.”

Evan shrugged, “I don’t think a normal dinner was going to happen. You know, since, uh, since I was already messing things up.”

Connor turned towards him, “What? How?”

“Y-you know, with, erm… I mean it’s not like my uh… _tree facts_ were going to charm your parents into liking me.”

Connor smirked, “They already liked you. You were my friend and breathing, that was enough.”

“Yeah, but like, I mean y-you know about the whole… sweating thing? A-and, and wow I was about to just create this whole story about us working on a project together. W-who knows where that would’ve gone.” Evan laughed uneasily.

Connor didn’t reply. After a few moments of fizzling silence, Evan shifted in his seat.

“Hey, um… what did you mean earlier… when you said you ‘weren’t gone yet’?”

As soon as he asked the question he regretted it. But to his surprise, Connor did not react, except to release a long sigh and bump his head back against the headrest.

“It’s okay, Evan. I know what you’re thinking. I just said that out of habit, like, I mean after you’ve been suicidal for a while you kinda forget other people don’t think that way all the time. It just sorta slipped, I can’t… I don’t even have a choice about that any more.”

Evan tilted his head to the side, “So y-you’re not suicidal anymore, right? That’s what you mean by that?”

Another sigh, “Evan I _can’t_ commit suicide. It’s not that I suddenly love life now, I just… literally cannot commit suicide. If I do that it would mean killing you in the process, remember?”

Oh. Right.

Evan nodded and began to rub his arms, wishing not for the first time that he could get his itchy cast removed. He didn’t notice that he’d rubbed his shirt sleeve up a bit too far until Connor suddenly sat up and stared at Evan’s arm.

“What happened there?” Connor pointed to Evan’s forearm.

Evan looked down and winced. Where his polo sleeve had previously been, now revealed a set of crescent-shaped bruises from where Connor had been gripping him in the bathroom a few days ago. The bruises had turned to a deep purple, beginning to fade but still noticeable in the low-lit interior of the car.

“O-oh, it’s… um…” Evan faltered, trying to think of an excuse. Except there wasn’t one; it was fairly obvious what had caused those bruises, even if Connor didn’t know he’d been the one to put them there.

“Who did that to you?” Connor asked, “Wait, are those from that time in the bathroom?”  

“Y-yes.”

Then Connor’s face went very pale, and he turned away from Evan, face half-hidden. In the otherworldly orange glow of the streetlight, Evan could barely make out the silhouette of Connor’s jaw, which trembled slightly. The way Evan’s did when he was about to cry -- and not the pretty kind but the ugly sobbing kind. Seconds later his fears were confirmed, when Connor’s body began to shudder, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Evan.. I… I’m so sorr--” he stopped, sucking in a quick breath, “My god, if I had known I was going to hurt you I would’ve never…” he couldn’t seem to finish a sentence, stopping and starting as his words limped out, wounded survivors of an inner battle raging within him.

Evan eventually placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, but Connor shrinked from the contact, so Evan sat quietly and waited for his sobs to lessen. After a while he spoke up, trying to muster courage he didn’t have.

“L-look, I feel sorry, and you feel sorry. And I forgive you for bruising my arms. So… let’s just both agree to get better. Okay?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for Connor to respond.

After a long pause, Connor nodded, but the rest of the way home he did not speak or even look at Evan. When they arrived, Evan got out of the car quickly, fearing that he’d already annoyed Connor enough.

“Goodbye.” he said, peering into the darkness of the car, hoping Connor would at least reply.

But Connor did not look back at him and he did not say goodnight. So Evan rushed into his house and shut the door, and tried very hard to stop himself from questioning every tiny aspect of the fragile friendship he thought he’d had with Connor.

The thoughts swallowed him up anyway, and he did not hear Connor’s voice that night.

\---------------------------------

 

He had fucked up.

He had fucked up, just like every other time, just like how he kept telling himself time and again he would never do. Just like he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do to Evan, ever, because Evan was Connor’s only friend and even then he wasn’t sure Evan considered them friends. Probably thought he was a creep, and definitely thought he was dangerous. Every time their mental connection began to kick in at night, he could faintly hear a murmur of fear beneath Evan’s regular thoughts, which had only grown louder after he’d held Evan against the wall that horrible day.

Evan had hidden all thoughts of the bruises from him somehow. How had he managed to do that? Could Connor also keep secrets from Evan, or was he doomed to have every little thought that crossed his mind broadcasted to a kid he hadn’t even known before a few days ago?

Well… he must have been able to suppress _some_ thoughts. Evan was shocked when he heard Connor bring up suicide. As if they could just avoid it, pretend the attempt had never happened and believe that Connor would get better.

Except he never got better, he just learned to be quiet.

Connor groaned and rubbed his temple, sensing a migraine coming on. With any luck he’d be able to drive the rest of the way back to the house with no incident, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go back and face punishment so soon. Larry was waiting for him, and he’d have to pass by Zoe’s door knowing she was listening to every move he made. Compared to that, a night sleeping in his car seemed infinitely preferable.

He eventually pulled over and got out, sitting on the hood as he let the night air cool his skin. He wanted to kick something, ram his head into a wall, whatever it took to make the ache in his brain stop. The guilt inside him was like an itch: it wouldn’t let go, and yet it didn’t overtake him either; existing in his periphery and never allowing him to forgive himself. Why should he? Evan might’ve said he forgave him but Connor didn’t deserve it.

He’d _hurt_ Evan. He’d swore to himself that he would never hurt Evan again, and maybe those bruises were old wounds, but they still spoke of many hundreds of other times Connor had failed to keep his temper in check, to reign in his emotions, and refuse to fight. Really, nothing had changed. _He_ hadn’t changed…

It’d been in 10th grade; a stressful day after a stressful week, but nothing so severe as to excuse his actions. No good reason to be pissed off, so recent beatings from bullies or arguments with Larry. But he’d still come home high and angry, and there was that burning itch inside of him he didn’t know how to deal with. Still didn’t.

That day, that dreadful afternoon, it’d gotten really bad. His parents had been out of the house, and the only one left was Zoe. Oh god, Zoe.

It was a stupid little thing. Some sarcastic quip she’d said that he should’ve known she didn’t mean. But he couldn’t think clearly, and he ended up chasing her all the way to her room. Back then she didn’t have a lock on her door. So he’d tried to open it, and when he couldn’t because she was keeping it closed, he banged against the door and rammed into it and kept screaming. He kept screaming that he was going to kill her!

Zoe always stayed away from him after that, and she had every right to. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though, and it ate away at him constantly. On better days, Connor entertained the idea of trying to apologize for all he’d done. Then he’d remember _all_ the things he’d done, and there would be that itch again, crawling up inside him and burning through his throat and if he was lucky the guilt stayed clamped down inside. But some days it forced its way out in shrieks and screams, and his family would always keep their distance for days after that.

Maybe they thought he was losing his mind, and maybe he truly was beyond help. But at least when he started to become friendly with Evan he’d believed he was getting somewhat better. Here was a person he hadn’t ruined his chances with. Sure, the beginning to their friendship was rocky, but at least Evan was sincere in his trust and thought he could be a good person.

Now all of that was gone. He saw the fear in Evan’s eyes when Conor noticed the bruises, remembered the fear when Evan watched him shout at his parents.

The only way to make things better was to leave Evan alone. Maybe he couldn’t take himself out of this world entirely, but he could remove himself from Evan’s life, reduce contact, maybe even find a way to disconnect their mental bond. It was the best he could do for Evan, and for Zoe, and for everyone else he’d hurt. After all, he couldn’t cause pain if he wasn’t there to inflict the blows.

A car horn blared behind him and he startled, realizing he’d walked into the middle of the road. He hastily backtracked to his car and watched as the other car passed by. Its headlights faded into the distance, and then he was alone again. The chilly wind raised goosebumps on his arms, and he shivered, but did not get back in his car. He gazed out into the darkness.

“Goodnight.” he said to no one. And if a few tears slipped down onto his cheeks, there was no one there to witness those either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's okay, i hate me for writing this too
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more angst angst angohgodithurts~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. things are pretty chill there, in stark contrast to this chapter.


	10. An Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of the comments i got for the last chapter were people quoting various lines that made their heart break and i for one see that as reason to deem myself the ANGST QUEEN HAHAHAHA  
> … i say as if i wasn’t shattering my own heart in the process lol
> 
> anyway prepare yourselves accordingly for more angstiness ~

For some reason, Connor had pictured Alana’s house as a sleekly modern building, neatly organized with everything in its place. In his mind, her house had vaulted ceilings and marble countertops and spotless wooden floors: a place to match her personality. Instead, what he found when he arrived was a cottage half-hidden by rose bushes and a colorful array of flowers. The house itself was painted white with blue shutters, and he noticed upon reaching the doorway that he’d have to tilt his head down to walk through it.

Before he had time to knock, the door opened wide to reveal Alana dressed in blue overalls and a bright smile. She quickly pushed open the screen door and ushered Connor in.

“Good afternoon, Connor! Watch your head!” she said, leading him into her living room.

With most people, Connor had trouble holding up conversations. He never figured out small talk, and he certainly didn’t waste time with the majority of his classmates. However, Alana was different. She and Connor shared very few interests and had vastly polarized work ethics, but they understood loneliness and feeling invisible to the rest of the world, so they at least had that in common.

Even if they didn’t, Alana could do enough talking for the both of them.

“Okay, so I thought we could split up the rest of the assignment between us, make things a little easier. Would you like to work on the final part of the essay or the presentation?” she asked, picking up the instructions for their psychology project.

“Which one has the least amount of words?”

“Uh… I guess the presentation? You could substitute pictures for words, and all we’d need is a few bullet points per slide.”

Connor nodded once, “Cool.”

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, not knowing where to sit, or if plopping down on the nearest couch would be considered impolite. Despite all the windows being open to let in the cooling September breeze, the room still felt small to him, probably because every available surface was covered in crafts and books and magazines and schoolwork. The entire far wall was made up of shelves crammed with well-worn books, ranging from botany to politics and even quite a few on veterinary medicine. 

“You can sit down, it's fine! Just leave your shoes at the door and uh… you can scoot stuff over to find a place to sit.” Alana said, glancing at where she must've been sitting before: one single open spot on a couch with homework spread out across the coffee table. 

Connor did as suggested and then scooped up an armful of yarn, which he deposited on the floor in a heap. He sat down on the couch opposite Alana and immediately sunk down.

Alana giggled, “Sorry, that sofa is a bit old. I always have trouble getting out of that one. You look like a pair of legs sticking out of the cushion with a head on top.”

Connor smirked, heaving himself up to reach for the assignment sheets. Just as he did, he heard something rapidly thud down a set of stairs, and then a half-cracked door in the hallway banged open to reveal a white blur speeding towards him. Seconds later, his face was licked by a bundle of energy that, judging by its size and ears, was a terrier dog.

“Pinochle! Get down!” Alana commanded, and the dog sat by Connor’s feet, tail wiggling as it stared up at Connor with pleading eyes. He cautiously reached out a hand to let the dog sniff, before scratching it behind the ears.

“Pinochle?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Alana rolled her eyes, “Long story.”

Connor fell back into the couch cushion and let the dog jump up into his lap, settling into a little warm ball. He then went back to his assignment, and the two worked on their project for over an hour, before Connor started to get antsy.

“Hey, uh, could I maybe take a break? Stretch my legs?” he stuck out a leg to emphasis his point.

Alana beamed, “Yeah, that's a good idea, I should probably do that too. We could go out to the back porch, it's nice enough outside.” she tilted her head to look down at the dog, “C'mon boy, get up!”

Pinochle was not easily persuaded off of Connor’s lap, until he discovered he also would get to go outside, and then the door could not be opened fast enough. Connor exited the house much more slowly, making sure his head didn't bump against the top of the doorframe. 

The backyard looked exactly like the front yard: flowers everywhere, and yet entirely different from how his mother's garden looked. Cynthia had hired the landscaper to create neatly separated beds of flowers shaded by evenly-spaced trees. Here the flowers grew wherever they could, spreading out to soak up the sunlight. The porch was like an island, flowers swaying across its edges like gentle waves. Somewhere out in the yard Pinochle barked, but he was lost to the tall stalks of sunflowers.

Yet, in all this beauty and color, Connor remained solemn. He stood on the porch and gazed out unseeing, fingers fidgeting for a cigarette.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Alana asked.

Connor grunted, then decided that was probably rude, “Did you plant all these?”

“No, no, that would be my dad. He’s always had a gift for that sort of thing, coaxing just about any kind of flower out of the ground.” she explained. She walked over to stand next to him and noticed his somber mood, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't  _ nothing _ me, what's wrong? Is it…” she lowered her voice, even though no one else was around, “Is it your parents?”

Alana didn't know much about his family, and certainly nothing about his many fights with Larry, but she did know Connor was gay and that his parents were conservative. When Connor didn't answer she pressed on.

“I mean, my parents are more understanding about me liking girls, but I do know how it feels to be scared of… those sorts of things. You know?” she looked up at him with worry.

Connor shook his head, “It's not that. Just… other stuff. Another person.”

Alana frowned, “Is it me? Because if it's me we don't have to work together, you can just say so and I’ll--”

“No.” Connor turned to look her in the eyes, “No, it's not you. You're, like, the nicest person I know, don't worry about it.”

Alana relaxed, but her anxious frown did not subside. Still, she sensed Connor did not want to discuss the issue further, and called the dog back inside, shutting the screen door behind her.

With her gone, Connor deflated against the railing of the porch, releasing a shaky sigh. It'd been two weeks since he'd last talked to Evan, two weeks since the dinner that went horribly wrong, and two full weeks of barely hearing any of Evan’s thoughts at night. Connor had discovered, mostly through trial and error, that if he was asleep before 10pm then he wouldn't hear any of Evan’s thoughts. It was a bizarre way of living, and Zoe was convinced he was losing it, considering he never went to bed that early. But it worked, and it kept him from bothering Evan, so he dutifully swallowed a sleeping pill every evening and hoped for the best.

He felt like a hollow husk of a human.

He reminded himself that it was better this way for Evan. After all, the few times he'd seen him in the hallways, Evan was always rushing to class or rushing out of school. He was obviously avoiding Connor. Probably hanging out with that Kleinman kid too. Connor wasn't jealous, he was  _ definitely _ not jealous or lonely. Besides, he had plenty of schoolwork to complete to occupy his time. 

Finishing his homework? Going to bed early? No wonder everybody thought he was acting strange. His grades hadn't been this stellar in years.

There was a soft knock on the back door frame. “Hey Connor, I’ve got a question that I’m having some trouble understanding. Could you help me out?”

He nodded and sighed. With one final glance at the garden, Connor turned to go back into the house, resigning himself to more hours of typing and research. 

\---------------------------------

 

Leaves crunched under Evan’s sneakers as he trudged home from school. He hated riding the bus, and Heidi wasn’t able to pick him up, so instead he found himself forced to go on foot. Some days the trek home flew by, his thoughts carrying him along as he navigated purely by instinct, but today was not one of those days. He remembered those precious few times during the first week of school when he rode home with Connor, saying his goodbyes with full certainty that he’d see Connor again the next day. 

It felt like a lifetime ago, and what he’d hoped was the start of a budding friendship vanished in one night. He’d sought Connor out the following Monday, searching for him by his locker, in the lunchroom, in the library, and even asked Alana about him. Connor hadn’t gone to psychology class, and he’d probably skipped school altogether. By Tuesday Evan was twisted up with worry, and sent numerous texts to no reply. Thankfully, Connor did return to school Wednesday, but Evan only caught a fleeting glimpse of him before the bell rang and he lost Connor in the crowd. 

Every instance after that was another moment of seeing Connor and never speaking to him. Connor was obviously avoiding him, probably because he'd realized how embarrassing and awful Evan was and no longer wanted to be seen with him. They’d only hung out around school for a few days; who would really notice in the long run if the two suddenly stopped being together?

Evan knew he should let it go, chalk it up to a handful of mysteriously magical days he wouldn’t regain. A brief bit of hope he never deserved. The lonely walks home and the absence of friends at school were how things were supposed to be for him…  his normal life. He’d managed it before, why should he be bothered now?

Except it still stung, and he still felt an ache in his chest every night when he was met with only silence. It was silly. Usually a person would be glad to stop hearing voices at night. Of course, only Evan could miss something everyone else, including Connor, considered bad. 

His backpack bumping against him with each step, hanging from his right shoulder. He’d gotten used to carrying it that way, in order to avoid the awkward debacle of attempting to get his bag off around a clunky cast. This afternoon would change that. Six weeks had passed since he’d broken his arm during the summer and he was finally getting it removed. 

A car drove up beside him and the driver leaned out the window, calling his name. He turned to see his mom, smiling brightly as she pulled to a stop. “Evan! Did you forget your appointment today? Hop in, I’m driving you there.” 

He squinted, getting into her car, “I thought that was later today?”

Heidi shook her head, “We had to move the time up so I could be there to drive you back home and still get to my night shift. Don’t worry, I think we’ll have time to eat dinner together afterwards!”

“Oh. Okay.” Evan said, and he wished he could sound more excited for her, but something was weighing him down. He couldn’t identify why he was depressed, just that he was and that it didn’t make any sense. After all, he was getting his cast removed and eating dinner with his mom, and both of those were equally rare events. 

The appointment went by surprisingly quickly, and they did indeed have enough time afterwards to go out to eat at a sit-down diner. Evan did his very best to smile for Heidi, and as the afternoon wore on his grins became genuine and his laughs contagious. They were giggling over some ridiculous joke while finishing desert, when Heidi glanced at her watch and winced.

“Ah, sorry about this, Ev, but I need to drop you off and head in for work. You gonna be okay?” she asked, grabbing her purse.

Evan pushed in his chair and nodded rapidly, “Yeah, y-yeah, I’ll just watch some TV and finish my homework.”

“Hopefully not in that order.” Heidi teased, and they headed back to the house with identical smiles on their faces.

It was only after Heidi left and he was alone again that Evan realized he was no longer wearing Connor’s signature. The nurse removing his cast didn’t mention the big, boldly scrawled name, or how it was the only one on there. Evan was rather glad she hadn’t. For two weeks he’d been haunted by that signature, the one part of Connor that was left in his life he couldn’t do anything about. It wasn’t like he could wash it off (he tried), or remove the cast before he was supposed to, and since Connor no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, Evan felt guilty for keeping evidence that their connection had ever existed. 

Yet… now that it was gone and he couldn’t get it back, he found he missed that signature. With the cast went everything he’d ever shared with Connor, irreversibly missing from his life. How could a few short days and a few longer nights have such a profound impact on him that the absence they left behind continued to affect him? 

The answer only occurred to him long after that, after he’d popped a bowl of popcorn and binged several episodes on Netflix, after he’d gotten his first cast-free shower, and after he slipped into bed for the night. 

He and Connor must still have a connection. Strained yes, and very fragile, but it existed in the space between them and refused to let go without first draining him of all his energy. Connor might be facing the same problems too.

Or he could be thriving better than ever, a voice inside him supplied, and you’re the loser who has dependency issues and can’t handle friendships that don’t pan out.

He rolled over onto his side, his  _ left _ side, solely because he finally could, and tried to enjoy the lack of a cast. Instead he just felt a pang of remorse, because only Evan Hansen could miss something everyone else considered bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“no man is an island, entire of itself…”_
> 
> my only reason for naming the dog pinochle was because i was thinking of mr. d from the pjo musical at the time. literally no other reason. also kristolyn apparently heard a service dog in a performance once and said alana should have a dog so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for connor and evan actually talking to each other instead of being emotionally constipated idiots~~
> 
> my tumblr is @nb-connor. join me for lots of crying over musicals.


	11. Taking Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> possible triggers: vomiting

Once, in the fourth grade, Evan had been wandering through the local library when his life abruptly changed. He went there every day after school -- Heidi was still at work and he had nowhere else to go, so he stayed therewith the other kids to finish homework. Some kids played on their game boys or flipped through magazines, but none of that interested him. 

He’d been aimlessly running his fingers along the spines of the books, solely because he liked the sensation of it. Before that, Evan hadn’t been much of a reader, only picking up books for class assignments. But he was bored, and one of the books had been sticking out a little, catching his attention. He pulled it out and inspected the cover: a colorful design of a tree cycling through the seasons, and as flipped through it he found plenty of interesting pictures and drawings. That very same afternoon he checked out his very first book about trees, and his special interest grew from there.

Yet of all the various books he’d read about plants and flowers and the environment, none of them really held a special place like that first book. In hindsight, of course, the book was watered down for young readers to understand, not covering the intricate details he would learn later, but it also carried a poetic understanding of trees none of the other books could portray. One section in particular always stuck with him.

_ “When the days get shorter and temperatures drop, trees begin to shed their leaves and prepare for the coming winter. Trees do not die in winter, they are just  _ **_dormant_ ** _ , a period of time when growth and development in an organism temporarily stops. But don’t worry! The trees have prepared for this, and will survive till they can begin to grow leaves again in the spring.” _

Below this had been a quaint illustration of a snowy forest, with the trees standing bare and hibernating animals bunkering below ground in their dens. The trees all had sleepy smiley faces on them. On the other page opposite it was another illustration, this one slightly less quaint. The trees were still barren, but this time the ground was covered in dry grass, and a harsh sun beat down upon them. The trees all frowned in worry.

_ “Sometimes things like fires or  _ **_droughts_ ** _ , when there is little or no water, can cause trees to go dormant as they react to the change in environment. Because they haven’t prepared for this, sudden dormancy can cause a tree to be severely harmed or even die if they don’t return to their previous state soon.” _

The rest of the book was a lesson on protecting the environment, but what always made little Evan pause was that one illustration. The trees simply… shut down. Started to lose their leaves and branches and dropped off anything they could to survive, till there was nothing left but a brittle and scarred husk. He hadn’t really understood how that felt until much later, after a particular grueling week in middle school. He’d been beaten by bullies, and had no friends, and as he sat there all by himself in the lunchroom he remembered the picture of the dying tree and thought… yeah, that’s me. 

Evan felt like a dormant tree, but this drought didn’t even have the decency to kill him.

He ran his fingers along the spines of the books in his school library, focusing on the pleasant sensation as he tried to get his mind off the creeping dissociation that had invaded him. With each passing night of not hearing Connor’s voice, he’d found he had a harder time paying attention and focusing, and into the second week without communication he started to dissociate. It was like he couldn’t snap out of a trance, as if half of his brain was somewhere else.

He found himself in this same state when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him into the hallway, bleakly empty now that everyone was in class. Except him. And… whoever was pushing him up against a wall of lockers.

“Well lookit here, guess who I found wandering around the library like a zombie.” one harsh voice said, met by another equally taunting reply. Evan saw a boy in a sports jacket step into view, and the one holding him wore loose jeans and a black shirt with some metal band on it. He stared into the empty sockets of a screaming skeleton that was in the process of destroying an electric guitar, before slowly turning his attention up to the boy who wore the shirt.

“Hey freak!” the boy waved a hand in front of Evan’s face, “You high or something?” he turned to his buddy, “Hey look, I reeled in a stoner!”

Evan briefly wondered what it would be like to get high. Maybe Connor had the right idea; at least if Evan was high he might not be so anxious all the time. Which made him wonder why he was so numb right now, instead of shaking and crying like he normally did right before he got beat up.

He felt the first punch land in his gut, and he doubled over out of instinct, but he couldn’t really feel any pain. When the second one smashed against his jaw, though, that one hurt As if he’d been turned on like a light switch, all his senses rushed back into focus, pushing the brain fog away. He blinked up at the two looming figures, one holding onto him from the side and the other rearing back to take aim. Perhaps if Evan had been alert a few seconds earlier he could’ve reacted in time to avoid it, but instead the fist struck his stomach, and he didn’t bother to hold back when he puked all over the boy’s shoes.

“Eww gross! You’re gonna pay for that one, you little shi--”

“HEY!” someone shouted from the end of the hall. Evan couldn’t see who it was from his stooped position over a puddle of puke, but he knew that voice better than his own. It was Connor.

“An old customer! Come back for another taste of my fist? Then I could teach a lesson to  _ two _ stoners in one day!” the bully yelled back. Evan winced. They might’ve been in an emptier section of the school, but if they didn’t tone it down soon teachers were going to find them.

Connor was much closer when he spoke again, “You touch that kid again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The bully poked at Evan’s bent head, “Oops, I touched him again. Whatcha gonna do, stoner, snap my neck?”

“It’s pretty tempting.” Connor seethed. 

Evan carefully tilted his head to look up. Connor was standing a few inches from the bully’s face, and his fists were clenched knuckle-white as he tried very hard not to tear into the boy. The other bully let go of Evan’s arms and sauntered over, puffing out his chest.

“Yeah, loser, what’s it gonna be?” he said in the lowest voice he could probably muster.

Connor didn’t react, continuing to glare at the first bully. Eventually the bully’s frown broke into a sneer, and he shook his head, starting to walk away, his buddy following close behind. The bully yelled over his shoulder as he reached the corner leading back to the main hallway. “See you later, freaks! I’ll deal with you when I’m not on a hall pass -- then I’ll have  _ plenty _ of time to rip your guts out!”

The two boys vanished, and with them all the tense anger in the air. Connor deflated and sunk down to where Evan crouched. Evan stared directly ahead at where he’d puked, knowing he looked a complete mess.

“Hey, where did they hurt you?” Connor asked gently. When Evan didn’t answer, he prodded at Evan’s face and ribs, exacting gasps of pain when he reached Evan’s middle. He then cupped his jaw, and Evan wanted to cry from how much it hurt.

“I’m taking you to the school nurse.”

Evan frantically shook his head, “No, please don’t. They never do anything to help and they always ask questions. I can’t do that, pleasepleaseplease Ican’tdothatagain…” 

“Evan, breathe. Breathe, dangit.” Connor said, pushing Evan up so that he could properly inhale.

Once he had calmed a bit, Connor continued, “Your mom at home?”

“N-no.”

“Okay then, we’ll go to your house, fix you up there. You have a first aid kit at home?”

Evan nodded feebly, and before he could protest, Connor helped him onto his feet, and they shakily made their way to the parking lot.

The drive home was blessedly short, but still awkward. Evan slumped against the window and gazed out, relieved he wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood at school, but puzzled by the fact that despite two weeks of refusing to so much as look his way, Connor had saved him. He had talked to him, touched him, and even volunteered to take him home. It was more than Evan deserved or expected.

The keys shook in Evan’s hands, before he managed to push open the front door and step in, praying his mom wasn’t home for some bizarre reason. Thankfully, the house was empty, and he stumbled to the bathroom, dragging out the first aid kit from the top shelf. Connor stood in the doorway, never taking his eyes off Evan.

“The janitor is going to have to clean up after me.” Evan muttered, remembering the puke they’d left behind. 

Connor shrugged, “It’s their job, and nobody will know it was you.”

“I’m s-skipping school.”

“You’re telling me you’d just walk into class with a bruised jaw, half bent over and sick to your stomach, and expect nobody to notice that?”

“Yeah.” Evan mumbled, “Why would they notice? No one ever notices me.” He bit the inside of his cheek, cursing himself for saying those thoughts out loud.

Connor knelt down next to Evan, and picked up a small bandaid and a tube of ointment to tend to the cuts on Evan’s jaw, “Why would you think that?”

Evan stared at him, and maybe they couldn’t hear each other thoughts but Connor seemed to get the message loud and clear. The regret on his face was instant. He bowed his head, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Evan repeated. He wanted to be mad at Connor, tell him all of the things he’d imagined so many times during those weeks. He’d envisioned himself yelling at Connor for hurting him, for abandoning him, throwing him under the bus for no good reason. He wanted to ask why, and how could you do that, and I know I’m awful I know why you don’t want to be around me but it still hurt!

He said none of those things though. He never could seem to stand up for himself. 

“I just wanted to keep you safe. From me.” Connor said, his voice low and stilted, “I figured if I didn’t speak to you anymore you could go on with your life. You’d be better off without me, and… well,” he slowly reached out and taped the bandage to Evan’s jaw, “I guess I was really wrong about that. I thought you’d just go back to hanging out with your other friends.”

Evan frowned, “Other friends? What other friends? I’m not even sure I was ever friends with you!”

He startled at his own words, sounding so harsh and foreign to him. But Connor did not so much as flinch, gazing up at him with eyes filled with hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Evan. I didn’t know… if I had known this would happen, I would’ve never avoided you.”

He looked scared, and somehow smaller, reminding Evan of that night long ago in the car, when he’d been sobbing after he found out he’d bruised Evan. And now Evan was bruised again, this time far worse than before, but not because of Connor. He had to make sure Connor knew that, and he tipped Connor’s chin up to look into his eyes.

“You d-didn’t beat me up, okay? You didn’t do this.” he was shaking, but he had to push through it, “I forgave you for hurting me, and I m-meant it. I meant it. And I mean it now too. J-just… just tell me one thing.”

Connor bit his lip, “What?”

“Why do I no longer hear you at night?”

Connor’s shoulders sank and he looked away from Evan, “I take a sleeping pill to make sure I go to bed by 10 every night. If I’m asleep by that time, then we don’t hear each other’s thoughts.”

“You were doing this on purpose?” Evan asked, holding his breath. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but he wondered how exactly Connor had figured that out. How strong his desire to avoid Evan must’ve been to go through that every single night.

As if knowing exactly where his thoughts were leading him, Connor spoke up, “It was so you wouldn’t have to hear any of this. Any of  _ me _ . You don’t want to hear all of the awful stuff in my head, Evan.”

“W-well mine’s pretty bad too.”

Connor startled, “You? You just have anxiety, how could that be as bad as--?”

“ _ J-just _ anxiety?” Evan’s frown deepened, “I t-tried to  _ kill  _ myself by falling out of a t-tree! I used the very thing that I loved for years to end my life a-and, and you think that’s  _ just _ anxiety?” he was crying now, his words stuttering uselessly. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

Then arms were enveloping him, drawing him into a light hug, loose enough to not injure his stomach and still let him slip out if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He knew Connor was trying to apologize, could feel the sorrow in him bubbling up and wanting to form words. Yet this gentle hug, and the comforting silence that passed between them, spoke louder than any words could. Slowly, their breathing began to sync together, and Connor brushed his fingers through Evan’s hair.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Connor murmured, “If you don’t want to be my friend, or even speak to me again, that’s okay. I’ll understand.”

Evan turned, partially shuffling out of Connor’s grasp, “I want the exact opposite of that Connor! It’s being apart that made me feel so bad. I… I realize I’m annoying, and awkward, and a sweaty sniffling mess, but…”

“I don’t care about those things, Evan.” he shrugged, “I mean,  _ I’m _ a stoner with anger issues and self-destructive tendencies.”

Evan rubbed the back of his neck, “Heh, I guess that makes us both p-pretty messed up.” 

Connor smiled gently, “Do you want to try again? This… us?”

Evan paused, then reached down and let his hands tangle with Connor’s, liking the pressure of holding Connor’s hands. He nodded, and smiled back, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Somewhere deep inside of him, he felt a little bit of hope take root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, comment, and subscribe for more tree metaphors about severe mental health issues~~
> 
> i read every comment i get and appreciate all of them, even if i don’t always know how to respond or don’t want to spam the comments. but i do read every single one of them and wanted to thank you for all the support you guys have given me!


	12. Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as a special treat to all my lovely readers, might i suggest a playlist i found for your listening pleasure. it is particularly suited to this chapter and it served me well while i was writing. you can find the playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/user/12100918/playlist/7eGBzpgEhyYy07EwdUrpvP. 
> 
> i love reading every one of the comments i get for this fic, it fuels me with the love i have for these characters and to continue this story. thank you for all your support! <3

“Okay, okay, well what about AFI?”

“Umm, I don’t think so?”

“Blink-182? Avenged Sevenfold?”

“No and no.”

“Were you even alive in middle school? C’mon Hansen, at least tell me you’ve heard of Green Day!”

Evan laughed and sat back in his seat, letting the wind rush through his hair from the open sunroof. They were driving towards the setting sun, so Connor had lent him an extra pair of sunglasses, which admittedly made him look a bit cooler. Combined with having to shout over the music blaring from Connor’s stereo, and the adrenaline pumping through his blood, made him feel like he was young and invincible. Technically he was only one of those things, but it felt amazing to get a taste of a reckless youth he would never otherwise experience.

“What sort of music did you listen to when you were younger, then?” Connor shouted.

Evan reached over and turned the volume down a bit, if only so he could focus on what Connor was asking. Connor scoffed but kept the volume down, repeating his question.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m sure I heard popular songs during free days in gym class.”

Connor tisked, “But you never had an emo phase.”

Evan snapped his fingers, “Oh, I know Linkin Park!”

“There may still be hope for you yet.” Connor grinned. He turned onto a dusty gravel road, and Evan gripped his seat to keep from bumping around. 

“W-where are we g-going?” he stuttered, and for the first time it was because of the terrain and not his anxiety.

“T-told you I’d t-take you apple p-picking.” Connor replied, then turned up the music again to avoid hearing any other questions. Evan rolled his eyes and settled in, watching at the gorgeous autumn countryside spread out before them. The leaves were beginning to change color, rippling in brushstrokes of red, orange, and yellow. This was by far his favorite time of year, which was how the whole “what-did-you-do-for-fun-during-the-fall-when-you-were-a-kid” conversation started. Evan reminisced about how he used to go on hayrides with his mom once a year, and then Connor admitted to visiting an apple orchard with his family, before it closed and their relationships went sour. But before it closed, he quickly added, after they picked their own apples, he and Zoe and their mom would bake a homemade apple pie. 

“Do you even know how to make an apple pie anymore?” Evan had asked, when Connor mentioned possibly doing it again. Then Connor got  _ that look _ in his eye, the kind usually followed by Evan’s insistent protests. No Connor that’s against the law. No Connor I can’t skip school again. No Connor I’m sure that dog already has an owner.

“I’ll just look up a recipe once we get back. You free this weekend?” Connor leaned back in Evan’s desk chair.

“Yeeeaaahhh… why?”

Connor grinned, “I’m taking you apple picking!”

Except Evan had lived in the same house for most of his life and he was pretty sure there wasn’t an open apple orchard in the county. Or at least nowhere within the driving distance Connor seemed to be suggesting. To be safe, Evan had looked up a rough estimate of the number of apples they would need to pick, just in case Connor had been telling the truth about not finding a recipe till they got back. He smiled at the memory, and glanced over at his friend. They’d been hanging out more over the past week and a half, and while it was usually at Evan’s house, Connor still managed to find a way to mischievously get into trouble. Not the trouble that involved police (hopefully), just the kind that made Evan sigh and pretend to be frustrated. Secretly, they both knew Evan liked the teasing. 

The car turned onto a new road, just as bumpy at the last one, and they roared past a sign Evan only got a glimpse of. He was pretty sure there’d been a smiling apple on it.

The road ended in front of a pair of closed gates. Evan frowned as the car pulled to a stop, and he turned to face Connor with arms folded across his chest.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t be doing anything illegal!”

Connor held up his hands, “We aren’t! This is all totally innocent, I swear.”

“So we aren’t sneaking into a closed apple orchard and we aren’t trespassing on private property?” Evan raised his eyebrows. 

Connor had that look in his eye again, “Scout's honor.” He crossed his chest.

“Okay one, you were never a scout so that doesn’t count, and two crossing yourself is a Catholic thing. Have you suddenly become Catholic?”

Connor opened his mouth to deliver a smarmy retort when they were interrupted by the gates opening. They turned as one to watch a woman step out.

“Is that little Connor Murphy I see?” she asked, walking up to his window, “Out terrorizing the town now that he’s driving?”

“You bet.” Connor replied, beaming. Evan hadn’t ever seen him so immediately trusting of a person before.

“And who’s your friend?” she ducked down to get a better look at Evan. He waved shyly.

“His name’s Evan.” Connor gestured between them, “Evan, this is Miss Evelyn, an old family friend, and better known as Miss Autumn Smiles. Also the one who will be letting us in  _ legally _ to her orchard.”

The woman whapped Connor on the head, “Old family friend, eh? You make it sound like I’m as old as these trees.”

Connor got out of the car, locking it before skipping towards the open gates, “Evan told me you can count the age of a tree by its rings, maybe we should try counting your wrinkles!” 

Another whap.

Evan watched the two of them carrying on. He always had difficulty telling when people were being sarcastic or not, but Evelyn and Connor seemed to be enjoying themselves, so they must’ve been play fighting. His suspicions were confirmed when Connor winked at him. They had established early on, since the day Evan had been bullied, that a wink meant everybody was just joking. Evan relaxed, and winked back at him. Message received.

The boys followed after Evelyn as she traipsed through what was left of the Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard. It was not a crumbling ruin, as Evan imagined when Connor had told him the orchard of his childhood eventually shut down. Rather, the orchard was much smaller, but still well maintained, and while the animals originally kept there had been moved to other farms, there was still a large golden field out beyond Evelyn’s house.

“I get a group of boys from my local synagogue to come around here a couple times a year to keep the place up.” Evelyn chatted, leading them towards the orchard, “Of course, for an old family friend I don’t mind letting you boys pick a few for your own use.”

“T-thank you, Miss Evelyn.” Evan said, “We really appreciate this!”

“My pleasure.” Evelyn turned towards them, “How’d you find such a polite friend, Connor?”

Evan blushed but Connor simply shrugged, “Guess I got lucky.”

“Well, you boys have fun doing my work for me! Take as many as you need, I’ll be up at the house.” she said, waving at them. They waved back and then continued into the trees.

Evan scooped up a bucket lying against the fence and then followed Connor as they searched for low-hanging apples. As he picked, he kept glancing around at how lovely it all was.

“I thought you said this place shut down.” Evan remarked, plucking an apple and gently placing it in his bucket.

“It did.” Connor found an apple and tossed it into his bucket with a loud thud. The next one he placed in carefully, after catching the disapproving glare Evan shot his way, “Miss Autumn Smiles was getting a bit too old for all the upkeep Autumn Smiles Orchard required, so she closed it to the public and sold the animals. But I don’t think you could ever pry her away from this land. For a couple years the orchard really wasn’t that well kept, but I guess she got some kids to help her out.”

Evan swiveled around to look at the edges of the orchard. Out past the ones still standing were many tree stumps or ones dying off and being taken over by underbrush. “This place must’ve been huge back in the day!”

“Oh it was, definitely!” Connor stood on his tiptoes to reach a particularly juicy-looking apple, “A good couple of acres I think. Or maybe it just looked big cuz I was little. I didn’t actually know she’d kept it up so nice until I called a few days ago.”

He then set down his bucket, looking out over the countryside, “Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to Evelyn about, if you don’t mind? Why don’t you pick out the rest of the apples for us?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Evan blinked, and then Connor was already halfway back towards the house, curse his quick long legs. Evan watched till Connor was out of sight, then turned back to the task at hand. According to the recipe he found, they would need about 6 or 7 apples for the pie. He decided to be safe and pick an extra one, hoping Connor brought money to pay Evelyn, since he wasn’t about to walk out of there stealing from such a wonderfully nice lady.

When he finished, he started to walk down the path, quietly enjoying the pleasant breeze blowing through the orchard. Ahead of him, windchimes clinked together and a mouth-watering scent wafted his way. He stopped in front of the kitchen window, peering over the windowsill to gaze longingly at fresh bread sitting on the counter.

Evelyn entered the kitchen and noticed him standing outside. She followed his gaze and then laughed, “Want a slice?”

He snapped out of his food trance and shook his head, “N-no, ma'am. Just looking for Connor.”

“Wasn’t he with you?” Evelyn asked, although the twinkle in her eyes didn’t match her confused expression. Evan frowned, then walked back towards the front of the house.

“Hey, Evan! Can you come here for a sec?” Connor’s voice drifted across the wind. He sounded strange, like he was gasping for breath. Evan followed the sound of his voice till he rounded a corner, and sitting there on top of a wagon full of hay was a sweat-drenched Connor.

Evan couldn’t keep the grin off his face, “Wha--what is all this?” He gestured to the wagon, as if it weren’t obvious.

Connor shrugged and feigned indifference, “You said you really liked going on hayrides when you were a kid. I, uh, figured since we were out here and there was a hay field right there…”

“Connor this is amazing!” Evan said, setting his bucket of apples down and racing over to the wagon. He hopped on, falling backwards into the hay. He would probably spend the rest of the ride home picking straw from his pants, but he didn’t care. Moving his arms and legs around like he was making a snow angel, he stared up at the passing clouds.

Seconds later, Connor flopped down next to him, “So uhh, since there aren’t any horses here I can’t really do the whole ‘ride’ part of ‘hayride’, hopefully that won’t put too much of a damper on your fun.”

“It’s fine, Connor.” Evan closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of old memories, “It’s perfect.”

They were quiet for awhile after that, simply enjoying the fresh air and skitter of leaves across the ground. It was the most peaceful Evan had felt all month, and possibly all year come to think of it. He imagined Connor panting as he heaved hay into the wagon, all while looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Evan wasn’t coming his way. He giggled at the thought.

“What?” Connor asked.

“Nothing.” Evan swatted the air with a hand, before settling back down. Beside him, he heard Connor sit up, but otherwise remain quiet. He peeked up at him.

Golden light surrounded Connor’s silhouette, dancing across strands of hair that tugged in the breeze. He was staring off towards the rolling fields, hands folded in his lap, fingers drumming absently like they always did. Evan had to admit, he liked when Connor was like this: peaceful, calm, quietly observant. Especially now, Connor looked striking in the halo of sunlight, blue eyes cast a hazy green, lips parted in a slight smile. From this angle, Evan could just spot a few freckles along the bridge of Connor’s nose. He imagined sitting up and being close to Connor, brushing stray wisps of hair out of his face…

And whoa, that was quite a lot more imagining than he’d planned on! Evan rolled over on his side, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. He was pretty sure the heat rising on his neck was no longer from picking apples or lying in the sun. 

Why on earth had he been thinking like that about Connor? Of course, he liked Connor, in the way he was sure most people did about their closest friends. But was it normal to think about… about your best friends eyes, and lips, and possibly brushing those lips with a thumb?

No, no that last one probably wasn’t normal friendship material. Was it possible then that he  _ liked _ liked Connor, in a slightly romantic sort of way? Could he even do that? 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now. Wouldn’t want to have to leave you behind.” Connor teased. When Evan didn’t answer, he poked at his back, “Hey! Wake up sleepyhead!”

Desperately hoping his blush had receded, he rolled over and squinted up. Connor had a beautiful smile on his face, and the wind was blowing through his hair, and goodness Evan should stop right there. He sat up and picked hay off his shirt.

Connor laughed and reached over, tousling Evan’s hair, “You’ve got straw everywhere on you, dork!”

Oh dear. If Connor kept doing that he really wouldn’t be able to hide his blush. Evan scrambled out of the wagon, frantically brushing hay off him. Connor groaned and shuffled out as well, following after Evan with hay still sticking out of his clothes.

“You wanna head back? It’ll probably be dark by the time we get home.”

“Y-yeah. I’d like that.” Evan said, and mentally congratulated himself for not slipping up on his words. He just hoped it would stay that way.

With a final thanks and goodbye to Miss Evelyn, Connor paid for the apples and then they headed for Evan’s house, the Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard fading into the distance. Despite the last surprise revelation, Evan had still enjoyed his time there, and was grateful to Connor for being so thoughtful.

“Depending on when we get back, do you want to make the pie tonight, or wait till tomorrow?” Connor asked, turning onto the main road. He’d left the stereo off this time, letting the lull of the car act as background noise. 

Perhaps if things had gone differently, perhaps if he didn’t feel butterflies in his stomach, Evan would have insisted on finishing the pie that night. But he had a feeling this was one of those complicated emotions he’d have to spend a good many hours mulling over, so he suggested they wait till tomorrow (on account of all that physical exercise they did that day, of course).

“Oh bull, you picked a couple apples, that isn’t physical exercise.” Connor said, “Now me, I put in all that backbreaking work with the wagon. Hay is way heavier than it looks.”

Connor continued with the teasing the rest of the way home, and Evan let him. Teasing he was used to, light-hearted fun was the status quo. A baseline for how their friendship usually worked. He could do that, he could manage that. 

Then he wondered, belatedly after Connor had already headed home, what he would do that night when their mental link re-connected. He certainly couldn’t let Connor hear those type of thoughts coming from his head!

As it would turn out, though, fate decided to have mercy on him that night. Despite all Connor’s talk about not really doing much physical exertion, Evan found himself exhausted from meeting a new person and experiencing so many new things in one day. He collapsed on the bed without even remembering to change clothes, and promptly fell into a sound sleep. 

His dreams brought him back to the orchard, and the “hayride”, except this time he really was on a moving wagon. He couldn’t see the horses or the driver pulling them, but he could see Connor, painted in golden amber sunbeams. Connor’s laughs were the rare and soft kind Evan liked best, and he never could stop grinning. The last thing he recalled before he woke up was tracing his thumb across Connor’s lips, and he liked it. He awoke with that sudden realization, as if it were a simple and plain fact woven into the seams of the universe. He liked Connor.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh evan…
> 
> i never create ocs until suddenly i have to, and then i immensely enjoy creating them. miss evelyn is largely a product of me struggling to find a way to write about the quintessential orchard experience without sounding overly familiar to all the other fics i’ve read. hopefully i did that well enough.
> 
> like, comment, and subscribe for more gay dreams~~
> 
> as a heads up, i do have a somewhat busy rest of this week, so that means i won't always be available to respond to comments. i still read them though!


	13. A Storm Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dear lord how is this thing already 30k long?!?! *glares at my plot outline* why are you like this?
> 
> ch 13 on august 13th? must be good luck.
> 
> i’m writing this at 2:30am because i’m responsible about my health like that. whoops. anyhoo enjoy!

Okay, so maybe Connor had a little crush on Evan. Just a tiny one, perfectly harmless, and certainly not going anywhere considering Evan was most likely straight. Perhaps the whole recreating-a-favorite-childhood-memory thing at the orchard had been a bit much, but surely Evan hadn’t recognized the gesture as romantic. Just two buddies hanging out together, alone, with the sun setting behind them and one of them desperately trying to avoid staring into the other’s eyes. So what if Evan’s blue eyes shined in the late autumn sun, that was a totally normal friendly observation.

Yeah, a perfectly normal tiny crush on his straight best friend. This was going to end well.

He paced nervously in front of the window, waiting for Evan to arrive at his house. Since Connor had the bigger and certainly more well-stocked kitchen, they’d agree Evan would come over there to make the pie. 

Connor glanced up at the clock in the foyer. Only two minutes had passed since the last he checked. He went back to pacing.

“You’re gonna dig a ditch in that rug at the rate you’re going.” Zoe commented as she rushed by. She was dressed peculiarly formal for a stroll across the house, and he whirled around before she could exit the room.

“What’s up with the dress?” he asked.

Zoe spun to face him, eyebrows raised, “Homecoming dance, remember?” she got no response, “They’ve been talking about it all week at school. Had a pep rally. Homecoming? Dance? You do know what dances are, right?”

Connor dramatically flung himself onto the foyer settee, wiggling his toes in the direction of Zoe’s face as an answer. She sighed with disgust and continued to rush about the house getting ready for her dance.

In truth, Connor had forgotten all about homecoming. He never participated in the stupid costume days, and he didn’t pay attention during pep rallies, always sitting in the top back row with the other losers. It didn’t matter that this was his senior year, he despised school dances and besides, he had a pie to bake.

The doorbell rang, and Connor tripped over himself getting to the front door. He hurriedly pulled his hair into a bun, smoothed down his clothes, and then opened the door.

Evan had his back to him, waving to Heidi as she drove off, shielding himself from the strong wind outside. He turned and smiled at Connor.

“I brought the apples!” he said, holding up a tied plastic bag. He stepped in and followed Connor into the kitchen, where they dragged all of the ingredients out onto the counter.

Connor dug two aprons out of a drawer and tossed one to Evan, “I figured we could get started on the pie now since it takes a while to bake and cool.” He tied his apron around his waist with practised efficiency.

Evan snickered, reading Connor’s apron, “‘Hot stuff coming through’?”

“Just wait till you try on yours, I gave you The Grillfather one.”

They were old aprons no Murphy had used for quite some time, harkening back to rosier days of family barbeques, Larry perched by a massive grill with that corny apron on and surrounded by uncles wearing polos and khakis. ‘The Grillfather’ was a little too big on Evan, but it fit well enough, so they set about preparing the pie, Connor wielding a rolling pin while Evan cut up the apples.

Thirty minutes passed, and they fell into a methodical pace, quietly mixing together ingredients and giggling at their attempts to get the crust just right. Eventually they fished out a pie tin and laid the bottom layer of crust. As they spooned in a bowl of chopped apples and cinnamon, Zoe wandered into the kitchen.

“Wow, it’s really quiet in here.” Zoe remarked, frowning as her gaze never strayed from her phone. 

“I-I didn’t really n-notice.” Evan said.

Zoe walked over and stared out the back window at the porch. The wind had blown several small tree branches across the yard, and the sky loomed in a brooding dark grey. She went back to her phone and scrolled down the screen. She then saw something and scowled.

“Oh come on!” she kicked at a stool.

“W-what is it?” 

Zoe vibrated with tense energy, “They canceled the homecoming dance! Because of ‘bad weather’; they’re moving it to next weekend.”

“There was a homecoming dance?” Evan asked. 

Zoe scoffed, “Both of you, I swear.” She shook her head and stomped back up the stairs towards her room, probably to go change out of her dress.

Connor plopped the last spoonful of filling into the pie. Evan let go of the tin and hurried over to where they’d laid the top half of the crust, gingerly carrying it over. After cutting vents into the top and sealing the pie shut tight, they placed it in the oven and set the timer for an hour.

After standing in front of the oven for a few minutes staring blankly at the timer, Connor coughed, “So… uh, what do you want to do while we wait?”

Evan shrugged. He hadn’t been over to the Murphy house hardly at all since that last dinner weeks ago, and even then he’d never been back inside. Of what little he knew about the house, it was big, Larry’s office was off-limits, and they had a sizeable dining table.

“We have a game room, if you want to go there?” Connor suggested.

Evan nodded, and then followed Connor as they walked down one hallway and then the next. Connor opened a door and flipped on the lights, revealing a modest-sized room with a billiards table to one side, a sofa in the middle, and a giant TV on the other wall. There were also other games; the racks of video games catching Evan’s eye in particular.

Connor gestured around the room, “This is the game room. Obviously. Uh… we could watch some TV? Or… uh, I don’t really know what kind of games you like…”

“What video games do you have?” Evan asked, already halfway across the room as if he were being drawn to the collection by a strong pull. When Connor didn’t object, he reached out and ran his finger down the list of options, till he landed on one that he liked and settled onto the sofa to begin playing.

They spent the next hour and a half that way, only getting up to pull the pie out of the oven and let it cool. They wouldn’t be able to eat it for awhile, so they held off on eating anything else and sipped on soda, too wound up in the game to pay attention to their growling stomachs.

They finally stopped playing when nature forced them to. Evan was just about to beat Connor’s score when the TV shut off, as well as everything else electronic in the house. The two stared into the darkness for a few seconds processing what had just happened, and then Connor stood up and groaned.

“Well shit. Guess we won’t be able to watch TV for awhile. Wanna eat while we wait for the power to come back on?”

“S-sure.” Evan said, and hoped he could remember his way back to the kitchen. As he headed out the door, Connor reminded him to pick up ice cream and snacks. Evan agreed, and made his way through the house. He picked up his supplies quickly, refusing to look towards the big windows to the backyard, just in case there was an axe murderer lurking out there. Evan then hurried the way he came. Shadows played tricks on his mind, and he didn’t want to to wander the hallways alone for longer than necessary. 

Lightning flashed outside the windows, and a boom shook the house moments later, causing Evan to shudder. He’d never been a big fan of thunderstorms as a kid, especially when it got this nasty. He tried to steady himself as more thunder rumbled in the sky, winds buffeting the sides of the house and tossing sheets of rain against the windows. 

Connor stood in a ring of carefully-placed candles, all of which had been spread out around the game room on counters and tables. He added another blanket to the pile as Evan entered. “I think that’s about everything. You got the snacks?”

Evan nodded feebly, then scurried over to where the light was. He placed the tub of ice cream on the coffee table along with two big bags of chips and then settled into a pile of blankets, wrapping himself in a little burrow. 

The wind was beginning the moan now, recalling to his mind stories of decrepit manors haunted by ghosts on the English moors. Except they were in America, which meant the supernatural was less whimsical and more angry and out for blood. He cowered in his blankets, wishing they hadn’t binge-watched on those ghosthunter videos a few days ago.

Connor popped open a can of soda and took a swig, before kicking back in a pillow chair with feet propped up on the empty side of the table. He noticed Evan’s trembling and smirked, “Wind spooking you, Evan?”

He frowned, “I don’t like storms. Most people don’t. It’s not w-weird!”

Connor shrugged, “Just asking.”

Above them, tree limbs battered against the upstairs windows. After another deafening bolt of lightning shook the house, they heard the pit-patter of feet scurrying down the stairs. A few seconds later, Zoe appeared in the doorway, a pillow tucked under one arm while the other hand dragged a blanket behind her.

“Storm getting to you too, Zoe?” Connor asked, aiming a straw through the opening of his can and sipping from it. 

Zoe scowled and trudged over into the circle of candles, “This isn’t a storm, it’s a damn hurricane.”

“Quite a trick for a hurricane to get this far inland.”

“Har-har.” Zoe mocked, “You know what I meant!”

She plunked herself down on the opposite side of the coffee table, pulling out her phone. The artificial light revealed a disappointed scowl on her face, before she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

“No wifi. No phone service.” she motioned above her, “No lights. Does anything in this house work right?”

“Has it ever?” Connor sneered.

Zoe ignored the comment, “Last I read, before the internet cut out, the bridge over by the old Blockbuster had washed out. I guess somebody was there taking a video of it; the river looks insane!”

Evan sighed. He crossed the bridge every time to get to Connor’s house, and if it was washed out that meant he wouldn’t be able to get home even if he wanted to. He was glad he’d already planned on staying the night, so Heidi wouldn’t be fretting over him.

“Wow, talk about a shitty weekend to plan a homecoming dance.” Connor said.

Zoe nodded, for once in agreement with her brother, “Yeah, I guess it was a good call to cancel. Got a text from Alana an hour ago saying she and a few other kids that arrived early are now stuck in the gymnasium. That’s gotta suck.”

The three stared at the bags of chips on the table in silence, imagining what it would be like to spend several hours waiting at the high school for the storm to pass. Knowing Alana, she probably sat down with a good book long ago, but that didn’t mean her acquaintances faired as well under such circumstances.

Even in the comfort of the game room, with food readily available, the Murphy siblings were both tapping and fidgeting, and Evan twisted at his shirt hem. They couldn’t fall back on watching TV, or video games, and even their phone batteries would eventually die. So they thought back to all the times in childhood when there was a storm and they had nothing to keep their little minds busy.

“How about playing Never Have I Ever?” Zoe piped up.

“No!” Evan and Connor said in unison.

“Cards Against Humanity?” Connor suggested with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Not the way you play it.” Zoe grumbled, “Evan?”

Evan cleared his throat, “Well, I-I’ve got food so I’m good with whatever.”

“Jokes!” Connor suddenly said.

Zoe groaned and flopped over onto her back, “Oh dear lord no!”

“Jokes?” Evan asked.

“Don’t get him started, Evan, he’s the absolute worst at puns.”

Connor crossed his arms, “Hey, you never know, Evan might like my jokes. Give him a chance, Zo.”

At the mention of her nickname, Zoe abruptly sat up and got out her phone, swiveling around till her back was to Connor. Connor seemed to wilt a little at the action, but he quickly regained his composure, leaning towards Evan and taking a swig from his nearly-empty soda.

“Why don’t they play poker in the jungle?”

“Noooooooooooo…” Zoe placed a pillow over her head.

Evan bit his lip to keep from grinning, “Um… why?”

“Too many cheetahs.” 

Evan giggled. It was so stupid, but he had a fondness for corny jokes. Connor seemed to be encouraged by Evan’s reaction and he continued.

“Why didn't the toilet paper cross the road?”

This time Evan really didn’t have an any idea what it could be. He shrugged.

“It got stuck in a crack--”

“Eww!” Evan laughed. He tossed a pillow at Connor, and a moment of mutual inspiration dawned on them. Zoe barely had time to roll out of the way before the boys launched into a full-out pillow fight.

“Hey, hey! Watch it, don’t knock the candles over!” Zoe shouted over the din.

The chaos halted, and they look around the room, searching for a solution to their rather flammable problem. Then Connor turned to Zoe, “Do we still have those old Halloween decorations?”

“Yeah?”

“Excellent.” Connor dashed out of the room, leaving Zoe and Evan alone. 

They awkwardly stood staring at the floor, unable to say anything to each other. Zoe finally walked over to a chest propped against the wall, opening it and dragging out a rather ancient-looking CD player. She blew off the dust, and then hunted for something else further down in the chest. She brought out and zipped open a CD wallet, the kind Heidi used to have in the car that Evan would pick through while on long road trips. Zoe put a CD into the player and crossed her fingers in hopes that the batteries would still work. Sure enough, a song began to play.

It sounded like the kind of music Evan used to hear during gym class or at middle school pep rallies. He nodded along to the peppy beat, as Zoe turned to face him triumphantly.

“There! Now it’s not so spooky. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything creepy happening with Kidz Bop on.”

Evan smiled, and sat back down on the blankets. A few minutes passed, and then Connor walked in with a giant skull cradled in his arms and fists full of glowsticks. He stopped at the sound of mid-2000s nostalgia.

“I’m gone for five minutes and you manage to assault poor Evan with your girly music?”

“ _ ‘Girly music’ _ ? Seriously, Con?” Zoe stuck out her tongue. 

Connor did the same, before setting the skull and glowsticks on the billiard table. He began to  blow out the candles one by one.

“What’re you doing?” Evan asked.

“Fire hazard. Zoe said we couldn’t have a pillow fight with the candles around, so I’m substituting them.” He set the giant skull up on the mantelpiece, “I had to get some new batteries for this thing, but it should work!” 

He flipped a switch on its side and the skull lit up in beams of green and orange, light pouring out of its eye sockets and a hole in the top. Across its forehead read ‘SPOOKTACULAR!’

“Christ, I haven’t seen that thing in years.” Zoe said. She picked up a glow stick and cracked it, setting it on the coffee table. The three of them proceeded to do the same to the rest of the glowsticks, till the entire room was lit up in greens, purples, and oranges.

Zoe sighed, “So much for chasing away the spooky atmosphere.” 

Evan shrugged, “At least it's better than standing in the dark.”

“Well spoken, my good sir!” Connor chimed in, picking up a pillow, “And now--  _ hyaaah _ !”

The pillow bonked Evan on the head and he startled, laughing as he defending himself with his own pillow. He flailed in Connor’s direction, eliciting a mock evil laugh from Connor as he easily dodged, before aiming at Evan with deadly accuracy.

“You are no match for my years of training!” Connor shouted. He backed up, foot twisting in the blankets and he tripped over the sofa, flopping onto it. Seeing his chance, Evan dived onto the sofa after him and began pummeling his face with his pillow.

“Eeek, stop stop I surrender!”

The boys collapsed into laughter. Zoe sighed exasperatedly from the other side of the room. 

Sharing a look of unspoken agreement, Connor and Evan rushed off the couch and teamed up to attack Zoe, who shrieked and fled for the hallway. Twisting glowsticks around their wrists, the boys followed after her, running up and down the dark hallways of the Murphy house till they lost sight of her. Connor then pulled Evan to a stop, motioning with a finger to stay quiet. Over their panting, they heard a creak from somewhere across the house.

“You go that way, I’ll check the stairs.” Connor whispered, and the two split up, not really being sneaky considering their glowing bracelets, but still having a better advantage being quiet than charging around banging into things.

Connor took the stairs by two, knowing exactly where to step to avoid any creaks. Once he got to the top he peered into the darkness, and noticed the door to his bedroom was cracked open.

He frowned. Zoe wouldn’t go in there; she knew he was vigilant about keeping his things private. Surely she wouldn’t go in there to hide from their stupid little game of chase.

He cautiously pushed the door open, stepping inside and holding up his bracelet to look around. It didn’t show much, but from what he could see the room didn’t appear disturbed.

Suddenly, the door clicked shut and he spun around to see Zoe standing with her back against the door, all traces of the smiling, shrieking girl gone. Her eyes glinted in the light of the glowstick, and she stared at Connor as if trying to dissect him with her gaze.

Downstairs, the Kidz Bop song continued to faintly play. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain pounded on the bedroom window.

“We need to talk.” she said in a shaky voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, comment, and subscribe for more mid-2000s nostalgia~~
> 
> soooo here’s the thing: i start school again at the end of this week, meaning my schedule is going to becoming very busy. as much as i like this story, school and developing an actual social life must come first. so if i don’t update as regularly for awhile that’s why. HOWEVER i do still read every single comment and getting comments lets me know that people are still interested, so please feel free to do so! i’d never have gotten this far without your support and it means a lot to me!


	14. New Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this chapter is short. but i figured that was better than leaving everybody on a cliffhanger.
> 
> EDIT: apparently i had a few people worried after last chapter's cliffhanger. i didn't mean to scare anybody, i promise it's not as bad as it came off! apologies if it seemed that way.

On the list of phrases most likely to make Connor’s blood run cold, “we need to talk” was pretty high up near the top. That sentence almost never ended anywhere good, and he tried to suppress a chill as he stepped closer towards his sister.

Zoe hunched next to the door, one arm clutching the other. She shrunk in on herself when Connor came closer, so he abruptly changed direction and sat on his bed instead, watching for a reaction.

There was silence for several minutes, a kind of silence that didn’t seem to belong to either of them, pushing in-between them as they both fumbled for the appropriate thing to say. This was new ground, uncharted territory they’d only briefly pushed the boundaries of in the past. Experience told them that moments of clarity could quickly cloud with Zoe’s impatience and Connor’s anger, and all it took was a wrong choice of word.

Eventually, Zoe inched forward into the faint light from the bedroom window, sitting down in a desk chair.

“H-hey Connor… there’s uh… something I wanted to tell you?” she tugged on the cuff of her jeans, staring down at her brightly-striped socks.

“Yeah, go ahead.” he whispered. As if his voice could shatter the moment and she would never talk to him again.

Zoe took a deep breath, then said all at once, “I think I’m bi. I’ve known for a little while now.”

Connor gaped at her… before realizing he should probably respond, before she took his silence the wrong way, “That’s great Zoe. That’s neat.”

He winced. _Neat?_ Since when did he say stuff like that?

Zoe glared at him, “You don’t believe me?”

Connor held his hands out, “No, no, I do! I really do, I think that’s great!... I… it’s just… um…” _now or never, this is now or never_ , “Can… can I tell you something too?” he asked, stumbling over his words.

Zoe’s eyes widened, but she nodded, leaning towards him.

_Now or never._ “I’m gay.”

Her expression softened, “Oh, oh good, thank god! Thought you were gonna say mom and dad already knew about me somehow.” she ducked her head, mouth curling into a shy smile, “Although, I guess it kinda makes sense you being gay. I mean, not that’s it's obvious or anything but uh, you’ve literally never dated a girl.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s true.” he said.

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, not sure what to say. Then Zoe began to giggle, and then Connor joined her, because of course this was how they’d come out to each other: in an awkwardly stilted way, that seemed like heaven compared to the rest of their relationship. But it was something, it was a connection they hadn’t shared before.

And in a small way, it felt strangely freeing.

“I don’t really know what to do now.” Connor admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Zoe snickered, “I suppose you should go check on Evan. He’s probably freaking out right about now, not knowing where we went.”

“We should tell him we got abducted by aliens.”

“Or Mothman.”

Downstairs, they heard Evan shouting their names. As they got up to go find him, Zoe turned to look up at her brother.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, undeterred by the stern glare Connor gave her, “I see the way you look when we talk about him.”

“A couple weeks of knowing you’re bi and suddenly you’ve become a love expert?”

“Months actually, thank you very much, and I was always the love expert.” Zoe stuck out her tongue.

Connor rolled his eyes, but couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face. Together, the siblings headed towards the sound of Evan’s voice, the silence between them sealing a pact to keep each other’s secrets.


End file.
